But in that
day or two of rheumatic pains, when Molly had been waited upon
by the dainty little handmaiden who came in spotless frocks
and trim little black shoes to make her fire and prepare her
tea, Daisy's tenderness and care had completely won Molly's
heart. She was a real angel in that poor house; no vision of
one. Molly welcomed her so, looked at her so, and would
perhaps have obeyed her as readily. But Daisy offered no words
that required obedience, except those she read out of the
Book; and Molly listened to them as if it had been the voice
of an angel. She was learning to read herself; really
learning: making advances every day that showed diligent
interest; and the interest was fed by those words she daily
listened to out of the same book. Daisy had got a large-print
Testament for her at Crum Elbow; and a new life had begun for
the cripple. The rose-bush and the geranium flourished
brilliantly, for the frosts had not come yet; and they were a
good setting forth of how things were going in the house.
One lovely October afternoon, when air and sky were a breath
and vision of delight, after a morning spent in dressing and
practising, Daisy went to Molly. She went directly after
luncheon.
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