The widow then sat down to cut up her cushion, and begin a puzzling task for the benefit of a disagreeable child, who was not likely even to think of thanks.
To make the quilted covering took hours, but they were pleasant hours to the widow, for, as she plied scissors or needle, she and the Hartleys conversed together on the theme of that love to God which makes us love our brother also. It is that love which pours itself forth in deeds of kindness, as the sun sheddeth forth rays, and apparently with as little effort.
Miss Petty had gone down below, and Shelah for a time was quiet, making up for her restless night by having a sleep on the deck, wrapped up snugly in Mrs. Evendale's travelling rug.
When Shelah awoke, and Miss Petty's gay bonnet again appeared on deck, the hat was finished. It was certainly a most original hat, the colour of the cushion having been scarlet, and it was soft and sun-proof, and—at least, so thought Robin—had a peculiar grace of its own, imparted by the worker, not by the wearer.
"A regular cardinal's hat," observed Harold. "What do you say to Mrs. Evendale for her kindness?" he added, as the lady tied the strings firmly under the chin of the child, and then gave her a kiss, rather to the surprise of both Miss Petty and Shelah herself.
"I'll say she's a good kind woman," answered the girl.
"Oh! That's not the way to speak of a lady!" exclaimed Miss Petty, who prided herself on her knowledge of forms of politeness, and thought that the word "woman" conveyed an insult.
"I won't say it of you," observed Shelah.
"I hope not indeed!" exclaimed Miss Petty.
"I'll say you're a cross bad woman!" cried the saucy child, with a look of defiance.