“O, Miss Churchill, you rate me too highly,” returned Fanny. “Rose is a charming and sensible nurse. I never try nursing.”
“Mrs. Whitcomb has been staying with us, and our sick room has had to be kept very quiet,” said mamma. “Fanny would do better where society is needed.”
“And that is just Lucy’s case. Now, Miss Fanny, if your mamma can spare you, I will sew on your dress, or do anything to help make up the time.”
“If it would really be any pleasure, I can readily consent to her going,” mamma responded.
“It would, indeed. I do not think I realized how busy you all must be, or I should not have had the courage to prefer my request. And I hope you will not consider that I have taken a liberty in bringing a few articles for your patient.”
With that she rose, and went down the path to her brother, who handed a snowy basket out to her.
“I ventured to put in a few fine summer pears besides: those are for the children. And now, Mrs. Endicott, what day will your daughter be most at liberty? Are you quite sure that I am not asking too much?”
“We shall be very glad to grant what you desire,” was the sweet reply. “Our days are pretty much alike.”
“Would to-morrow be too soon? And bring your dress, for I can sew beautifully on a machine, and I fancy I have some skill in that art. I have had such a pleasant call that I hate to go. Miss Rose, come over any time; we shall be glad to see you. My kindest regards to Mr. Endicott. Is there anything that I can do for you?”
“Not just now. Thank you most kindly.” And mamma walked with her to the gate.