But she was so tired she lay on the lounge a long while in the afternoon. Nelly played about, and talked in her pretty broken fashion. Dil dreamed of the vision she had seen.
About five Mrs. Wilson came in, her thin face lighted with eagerness.
“I must tell you something quite delightful,” she began. “I sew for several ladies; and one of them, a Miss Lawrence, came in about an hour ago. She’s interested in several charities, and I asked her about the places where they sent poor tired children to recruit. My dear, she is on the committee of a society; and they have a beautiful large country-house, where they can take in from twenty to thirty children. There’s a housekeeper and nurses, and different young ladies go up to stay a week or two at a time. They read to the children, and take them out in the woods, and help them at playing games; and there are music and singing, and great shady trees to sit under, and a barn full of new-mown hay, where they can play and tumble. Why, it made me wish I was a little girl!”
Mrs. Wilson put her hand on her side, for she had talked herself out of breath.
Dil’s eyes shone with delight. She could see it all in a vivid manner.
“Miss Lawrence couldn’t stay to-day; but she is coming to-morrow morning, and wants to see you. She was so interested in the way all you children are living here. She’s a lovely woman; and if there were more like her, who were willing to pay fair prices for work, the poor would be much the gainer.”
“You’re so good to me! Everybody is now,” said the child gratefully.
Dil thought she hadn’t done much of anything that day, but she was really afraid to tell Patsey how tired she felt. He would wash up the dishes.
“That’ll be jes’ the daisy, Dil!” he said, when he heard about Miss Lawrence. “You want some country air, an’—an’ reel fresh country milk. An’ don’t you worry. We’ll git along. You jes’ go an’ hev a good time.”
Oh, could she go to such a blessed place—like Central Park all the time?