She was greatly pleased at being
allowed to do it. Molly took it as a very natural thing, and
Daisy sat down to enjoy the occasion a few minutes longer, and
also to give such attentions as she could.
"Won't you have some?" said Molly.
"No, I thank you. Mamma does not let me drink tea, except when
I am sick."
Molly had discharged her conscience, and gave herself now to
her own enjoyment. One cup of tea was a mere circumstance;
Daisy filled and refilled it; Molly swallowed the tea as if
cupfuls had been mouthfuls. It was a subject of question to
Daisy whether the poor creature had had any other meal that
day; so eager she was, and so difficult to satisfy with the
sponge-cake. Slice after slice; and Daisy cut more, and put a
tiny fresh pinch of tea into the teapot, and waited upon her
with inexpressible tenderness and zeal. Molly exhausted the
tea-pot and left but a small remnant of the cake. Daisy was
struck with a sudden fear that she might have been neglected
and really want things to eat. How could she find out?
"Where shall I put this, Molly?" she said, taking the plate
with the morsel of cake. "Where does it go?"
"In there —" said Molly.
"Here? — or here?" touching the two doors of the cupboard.
Pages:
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654