"It's just what I want to come into; but if I do, it won't be there. I've no right to spoil it. Don't mind, Rachel. I'll go away."
She said it softly and sadly, as if she could not help it, and was turning back into the hall.
"But I do mind," said Rachel, speaking quickly. "Thee will come in, and sit down. Whatever it is thee wants, is here for thee. Is it the stillness? Then we will be still."
"That's so easy to say. But you can't do it for me. You will be still, and I shall be all in a stir. I want so to be just hushed up!"
"Fed, and hushed up, in somebody's arms, like a baby. I know," said Rachel Froke.
"How does she know?" thought Desire; but she only looked at her with surprised eyes, saying nothing.
"Hungry and restless; that's what we all are," said Rachel Froke, "until"—
"Well,—until?" demanded the strange girl, impetuously, as Rachel paused. "I've been hungry ever since I was born, mother says."
"Until He takes us up and feeds us."
"Why don't He?—Mrs. Froke, when does He give it out? Once a month, in church, they have the bread and the wine? Does that do it?"