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. 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
shewed 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 fingers.
"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.
"O 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."
One of Molly's grunts came now; she did not understand this or could not
believe.
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