But it was dull and lonely sometimes. She had few companions, and for
some months past she had not gone to school, as a rather serious illness
had made her unable to go out in bad weather. She did not mind this
much; she liked to do lessons by herself, for father or mother to
correct when they had time, and there was no child at school she cared
for particularly. Still poor Celestina was pining for companionship
without knowing it. Perhaps, though mother said little, she understood
more about it than appeared.

And 'Oh, mother, mother, _do_ come,' the child repeated, as she peered
through the glass.

There were one or two customers in the shop still. One of them Celestina
knew by sight. It was Mr. Redding, the organist of the church. He was
choosing some music-paper, and talking as he did so, but the pair of
ears behind the window could not hear what he said, though by his manner
it seemed something not only of interest to himself but to his hearers
also.

'I wish I could hear what he's saying,' thought the little maiden, 'or
most of all, I _wish_ he'd go and that other man too--oh, he's going,
but Mr. Redding is asking for something else now! Oh, if only mother
would come, or if I might turn on the gas higher. I think it would be
nicer to have candles, like Fanny Wells has in her house. Gas is only
nice when it's very high turned on, and mother says it costs such a lot
then. I _do_ so want to show mother the cloaks and hats.'

She turned back at last, wearied of waiting and watching. The fire was
burning brightly, that was some comfort, and Celestina sat down on the