"
"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. Daisy's heart was so fall 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 fall 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.
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