"They hardly ache at all, nor more does my back, and I walk and run miles and miles every day. And, Cousin Jean, I've made a present of my legs to God. I tell Him to make them do just what He would want them to do, if they were in heaven! And then I think Jesus leads me about, and it is so lovely, and I've been to see three sick people in the village, a man who has a cough and a woman who has a bad leg, and a boy who is very ill and is going to heaven very soon. And mother lets me carry them things, soup and jelly, and puddings, and my legs do love it so!"
"And when I'm out of doors, and the sun shines, and the birds sing, and the flowers smell, I wonder if I'm in heaven after all. It is so like what I used to make up to myself about heaven. But do you know, Cousin Jean, I'm sorry for one poor thing! It's my old sofa. He looks so dull and lonely without me, I'm afraid his heart must be nearly broken. He always had me with him, and we used to go for such lovely rides together. He seems to look at me and say, 'You're forgetting your old friend'; and then sometimes I go and cuddle him, and tell him how lovely it is in the world outside the windows. And I ask nurse to leave him to me to dust every morning; he likes me to fuss over him, I'm sure he does!"
Jean looked across at the old sofa and smiled.
"But I expect you haven't quite done with him yet, Sunnie. Don't you sometimes lie down on him?"
"Oh yes, but I don't live on him, as I used to do," Sunnie replied.
She chatted on in her quaint sweet fashion, and Jean was almost sorry when Mrs. Gordon and Dr. Fergusson returned.
When they were saying goodbye, Sunnie looked up into Dr. Fergusson's face rather wistfully.
"I should like to give both of you my blessing, but I'm not on my sofa now—"
Jean smiled.
"Can't you give it off the sofa, Sunnie? I should dearly like to have it."