But
though an empty tin pail stood there, the water in it was no
more than a spoonful. Nothing else held any. Daisy looked out.
A worn path in the grass showed the way to the place where
Molly filled her water-pail — a little basin of a spring at
some distance from the house. Daisy followed the path to the
spring, filled her pail and then her kettle, wondering much
how Molly ever could crawl to the place in rainy weather; and
then she came in triumphant and set the tea-kettle on the
stove.
"I am very sorry you are sick, Molly," said Daisy, anew.
Molly only grunted; but she had finished her peach, and sat
there licking her finger.
"Would you like to see Dr. Sandford? I could tell him."
"No!" — said the poor thing, decidedly.
"I'll pray to the Lord Jesus to make you well."
"Humph?" — said Molly, questioning.
"You know, He can do everything. He can make you well; and I
hope He will."
"He won't make me well —" said Molly.
"He will make you happy, if you will pray to Him."
"Happy!" said Molly; as if it were a yet more impossible
thing.
"Oh, yes. Jesus makes everybody happy that loves Him. He makes
them good too, Molly; He forgives all their sins that they
have done; and in heaven He will give them white robes to
wear, and they will not do wrong things nor have any pain any
more.
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