Her mother was standing up, watching with pleased expectation the movements of Mr.Carlyle.No candles were in the room, but it was bright with firelight.
"Now, don't laugh at me," quoth he, untying the string of the parcel.
"It is not a roll of velvet for a dress, and it is not a roll of parchment, conferring twenty thousand pounds a year.

But it is--an air cushion!" It was what poor Mrs.Hare, so worn with sitting and lying, had often longed for.

She had heard such a luxury was to be bought in London, but never remembered to have seen one.

She took it almost with a greedy hand, casting a grateful look at Mr.Carlyle.
"How am I to thank you for it ?" she murmured through her tears.
"If you thank me at all, I will never bring you anything again," cried he, gaily.

"I have been telling Barbara that a visit to London entails bringing gifts for friends," he continued.