"And then you know, we shall be praying for you," said Marigold softly. "Narcissus and me, and I'm sure Mrs. Heavitree will."
"Yes, I know that," said Mrs. Plunkett. "I like to think it. And I want you to read to me every day till I go. The doctor says I'm to be in the hospital in a week or two. He don't want it put off long. And I'm frightened when I think of that. I want to learn how to trust that I shall be taken care of all through—and then I shan't be so afraid."
Marigold did read every day, as Mrs. Plunkett wished; and sometimes in her simple way, she would speak about the great kindness and love of God, and about the living presence of Christ in days of trouble. Mrs. Plunkett would drink in such words with positive thirst, feeling her need of help. Mr. Heavitree also came in two or three times, and his visits "gave her a sort of lift," she said afterwards. One way or another comfort seemed to be sent, just when it was most needed; and as the day drew near, when she would have to leave home, her dread distinctly lessened. She actually went at last with a smile on her face; and Marigold's first visit to the hospital, two days later, found her the cheerier of the two.
Then came days of suspense for others, gradually lightening as the operation proved to be a successful one. Weeks of tardy recovery followed, not lacking drawbacks, but on the whole satisfactory, and the doctors gave every hope of a complete and permanent restoration.
Nearly three months of absence drew at length to an end, and Mrs. Plunkett returned home, not yet strong, but no longer a sufferer.
"It's like beginning a new life," she said.
Marigold had decorated the little parlour with flowers, and had prepared quite a festive meal, in honour of her arrival; and Narcissus had been spared from the Vicarage for several hours. Mrs. Plunkett seemed quiet and dreamy, as if a little bewildered with the change from a hospital ward; but the old acidity of expression had given place to a look of steady happiness.
"It's like beginning a new life," she repeated. "And I hope it's going to be new—some ways. I hope I ain't going back to old ways. I've had a deal of time to think, lying there."
"Dare say you won't be none the worse," suggested Plunkett.
"No," she said. "I hope I shan't, nor the girls neither. I'd like to be a better friend to them than I was before I left; and a better wife to you. And most of all, I'd like to serve God truer. I thought I was going to leave you all; and now He's put me back into life; and I'd like to make a good use of my time. That's what I want."