“By doing that,” said she, “I can have tomorrow to go and see those Brett children. Of course, something can be hung on the Sunday-school tree for them, anyway, and it can be seen to that they come, but I don't feel right to wait till after Christmas to do more than that. They may be suffering.”
“Guess they're all right,” said Lottie. “When there's such a tribe as they, somebody bobs up and looks after them.”
Lottie deposited with care her first load of dainty things from the parlor. Sarah, muffled in a white wool shawl, sat out of the draught from the open door. Lottie went back and forth. She laid things on the table, the sofa, on chairs.
“Well, this is all,” she said, finally.
“All?”
“Yes, I've brought out everything. You haven't things put away in other places?”
“No, only those I
