CHAPTER XXVIII.
BUT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MISS KITTY The ottoman whence, as Gavinia said, Miss Ailie produced the presents she gave to Mr.McLean, stood near the door of the blue-and-white room, with a reel of thread between, to keep them apart forever.

Except on washing days it was of a genteel appearance, for though but a wooden kist, it had a gay outer garment with frills, which Gavinia starched, and beneath this was apparel of a private character that tied with tapes.

When Miss Ailie, pins in her mouth, was on her knees arraying the ottoman, it might almost have been mistaken for a female child.
The contents of the ottoman were a few trivial articles sewn or knitted by Miss Kitty during her last illness, "just to keep me out of languor," she would explain wistfully to her sister.

She never told Miss Ailie that they were intended for any special person; on the contrary, she said, "Perhaps you may find someone they will be useful to," but almost without her knowing it they always grew into something that would be useful to Ivie McLean.
"The remarkable thing is that they are an exact fit," the man said about the slippers, and Miss Ailie nodded, but she did not think it remarkable.
There were also two fluffy little bags, and Miss Ailie had to explain their use.

"If you put your feet into them in bed," she faltered, "they--they keep you warm." McLean turned hastily to something else, a smoking-cap.