Eight cousins : or, The aunt-hill

SOMETHING TO DO. 255A broken slate that had blown off the roof, aninch or two of pencil, an old almanac for a reader,several bits of brown or yellow paper ironed smoothlyand sewed together for a copy-book, and the copiessundry receipts written in Aunt Plenty's neat hand.These, with a small bottle of ink and a rusty pen,made up Phebe's outfit, and it was little wonder thatshe did not " get on " in spite of the patient persistencethat dried the desponding tears and drovealong the sputtering pen with a will."You may laugh if you want to, Miss Rose, Iknow my things are queer, and that's why I hide'em ; but I don't mind since you 've found me out,and I ain't a bit ashamed except of being so backwardat my age," said Phebe humbly, though hercheeks grew redder asshe washed out some crookedcapitals with a tear or two not yet dried upon theslate." Laugh at you ! I feel more like crying to thinkwhat a selfish girl I am, to have londs of books andthings and never remember to give you some.Whydidn't you come and ask me, and not go strugglingalong alone in this way ? It was very wrong of you,Phebe, and I '11 never forgive you if you do so again,"ansAvered Rose, with one hand on Phebe's shoulderwhile the other gently turned the leaves oflittlecopy-book.the poor"I didn't like to ask for any thing more whenyou are so good to me all the time, miss, dear,"began Phebe, looking up with grateful eyes." O you proud thing ! just as if it was n't fun togive away, and I had the best of it. Now, see here,