Daisy's heart was so full of compassion she could not
but try. There was a little bit of an iron stove in the room,
and a tea-kettle, small to match, stood upon it; both cold of
course.
"Where is there some wood, Molly?" said Daisy, over the stove;
— "some wood and kindling? I'll try if I can make the fire for
you, if you will let me, please."
"In there —" said the cripple, pointing.
Daisy looked, and saw nothing but an inner door. Not liking to
multiply questions, for fear of Molly's patience, she ventured
to open the door. There was a sort of shed-room, where Daisy
found stores of everything she wanted. Evidently the
neighbours provided so far for the poor creature, who could
not provide for herself. Kindling was there in plenty, and
small wood stacked. Daisy got her arms full and came back to
the stove. By using her eyes carefully she found the matches
without asking anything, and made the fire, slowly but nicely;
Molly meanwhile having reached up for her despised peach was
making her teeth meet in it with no evidence of
disapprobation. The fire snapped and kindled and began
immediately to warm up the little stove. Daisy took the kettle
and went into the same lumber shed to look for water.
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