"If you really wish it, ma'am," said Jane, and her harsh voice was husky, but she stooped over the child, and no one knew that the cold, gray eyes were dim with tears.
"So this is little Willie?" said Margaret, passing her hand caressingly over his curls, while the child looked up with blue eyes of wonder. "Should you like to live with us, dear?" she said, in her soft motherly voice.
The little boy had never taken his eyes from her face. "Stay wid you," he replied decisively.
"So you shall," said Margaret smiling; and then to his aunt, "I have some little things that will almost fit him, Jane. My child's frocks and petticoats two or three years ago would suit Willie very well. We could alter them a little, and you might easily get a belt of some kind in the village to keep him from looking too much like a girl."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Jane. She could not have spoken another word.
"How pleasant!" said Margaret almost gleefully. "I wanted something to help me to pass the tiresome hours of this long day, and now my pretty little Willie has come, and we must help him into prettier clothes. Come, Mrs. Foster you know all about little ones. We must press you into the service."
"Willingly," said the old woman, producing a monstrous thimble from her pocket and popping it on her finger. And soon, united by the pleasant mutual interest, even awkwardness was forgotten among the three women as they worked together with a will to clothe the little one suitably. They were all benefited: Martha had found an occupation, and she began dimly to understand Mrs. Grey's tactics; Margaret was happy in seeing the fruits of her efforts come even more fully than she could have hoped; and Jane felt all the hardness melting away from her heart. Mrs. Grey insisted she should join them in the afternoon to give her advice and assistance in the serious task of changing a girl's clothes into a boy's, but once or twice she was forced to make her escape. These outbursts of feeling, however, made her better. They taught her that she was not all bad. They showed her that in the heart she had thought past redemption were yet the seeds of good; and unconsciously she rejoiced, blessing the kindly hand which out of misery and blackness had brought light, and even a measure of peace.
The day passed rapidly in this pleasant work, but Willie had long been asleep before the welcome sound of wheels notified the approach of the travellers.
The cottage and its surroundings certainly presented a more smiling appearance than on the preceding evening. Indeed, the contrast could not have been greater, for this was a kind of gala, and Jane Rodgers, in deference to the wishes of her mistress, determined nothing should be wanting that could produce a pleasing impression on the mind of the visitor.
Jane was not, and never could be, a person of many words. She was naturally self-contained. The business of preparation, from which she spared neither labor nor thought, was a kind of outlet for the feelings which could not find expression in words. If she could say nothing about her gratitude, she would prove it.