Daisy lifted the cover and brought out
her cake, wrapped in paper. As she unwrapped it and came up to
Molly, she saw what she had never seen before that minute, — a
smile on the cripple's grum face. It was not grum now; it was
lighted up with a smile, as her eyes dilated over the cake.
"I'll have some tea!" she said.
Daisy put the cake on the table and delivered a peach into
Molly's hand. But she lifted her hand to the table and laid
the peach there.
"I'll have some tea."
"Are you sick, Molly?" said Daisy again; for in spite of this
declaration, and in spite of her evident pleasure, Molly did
not move.
"I'm aching all through."
"What is the matter?"
"Aching's the matter — rheumatiz. I'll have some tea."
"It's nice and warm out in the sun," Daisy suggested.
"Can't get there," said Molly. "Can't stir. I'm all aches all
over."
"How can you get tea, then, Molly? Your fire is quite out."
"Ache and get it —" said the cripple, grumly.
Daisy could not stand that. She at first thought of calling
her groom to make a fire; but reflected that would be a
hazardous proceeding. Molly perhaps, and most probably, would
not allow it. If she would allow her, it would be a great step
gained.
Pages:
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648