A sweet-faced, rather elderly lady brought Marilla a rocking chair, and asked her if she was the doctor’s patient. Then she offered her a piece of cake and a lovely pear, and afterward took her down to see the flower garden that was fairly rioting in beauty, and a flock of snowy white chickens, as well as some fine 129 pigeons that circled around like swallows. She was the wife, and there was a daughter who had gone to church. She talked of Dr. Richards, how good and comforting he was to “father.” Marilla thought he must be good to everybody.
“I’ve had a lovely time with you,” the child said. Then she shook hands with “father,” who said—
“I s’pose you’re the doctor’s little girl?” His mind was not always clear on some points. “Come again, won’t you?”
She smiled and nodded. “The doctor’s little girl,” how sweet it sounded! But of course that could not be.
They had a delightful ride home though it was growing warmer. How beautiful her eyes were today—a sort of gray-violet, and the bronze lashes almost curled. And as he listened to her soft, flowing voice, he kept thinking—if he was to marry some one and have a little girl full of quaint ideas as this one was! But it would take a long, long while, and he sighed.
Miss Armitage was sitting by the parlor window when they returned, and she came to the door to meet them. 130
“I ran away with your little invalid,” the doctor exclaimed. “Haven’t I brought her back improved?”
Her cheeks were positively rosy and were rounded out by the exquisite shading. She clasped her small arms around Miss Armitage.
“And I’ve had the most splendid time! A real Sunday. We’ve been out in the beautiful country where birds were singing hymns and I’m just full of happiness.”
They had kept their pact, these two people; they could not have worked together otherwise, and each one was following the same path, for the good of the poor of this world.