in many ways.
"I will go and see whether Joe would like to see Edith may I, madam,
asked Fred?" Permission was given.
"My sister is here, Joe, you have often heard me mention her, would you
like to see her?"
"Oh, I don't know, my back is so bad. Oh dear me, and your father tells
me I am to lie flat in this way, months. What am I to do all through
the Christmas holidays too? Oh! dear, dear me. Well, yes, she may come
up."
With this not very gracious invitation little Edith stepped upstairs,
and being of a very tender nature, no sooner did she see poor Joe's
suffering state than she began to cry. They were tears of such genuine
sympathy, such exquisite tenderness, that they touched Joe. He did not
withdraw the hand she held, and felt even sorry when she herself took
hers away. "How sorry I am for you!" said Edith, when she could speak,
"but may I come and read to you sometimes, and wait upon you when there
is no one else? I think I could amuse you a little, and it might pass
the time away. I only mean when you have no one better, you know."
Joe's permission was not very cordial, he was so afraid of girls'
_flummery_, as he called it "She plays backgammon and chess, Joe, and I
can promise you she reads beautifully."
"Well, I will come on Monday," said Edith, gaily, "and send me away if
you don't want me; but dear me, do you like this light on your eyes?
I'll ask mamma for a piece of green baize to pin up. Good bye."
As she was going out of the room Joe called her back. "I have such a
favour to ask of you, Miss Parker. Don't bring that preaching German
lady here of whom I have heard Fred speak; I don't mind you, but I
cannot bear so much preaching. Mrs. Barton and her together would craze
me." Edith promised, but she felt disappointed. She had hoped that
Emilie might have gained an entrance, and she knew that Emilie would
have found out the way to his heart, if she could once have got into his
presence; but she concealed her disappointment having made the required
promise, and ran after her brother.
"I don't like going where I am so plainly not wanted, Fred," said she on
their way home, "Oh, what a sad thing poor White's temper is for himself
and every one about him."
"Yes Edith, but _we_ are not always sweet-tempered, and you must
remember that poor White has no mother and no father, no one in short to
love." Edith found at first that it required more judgment than she
possessed to make her visit to Jo
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