Then she drew Cherry towards her, and asked her to give her a kiss.
"You've been a kind little girl to me all this month past, that you have, my dear; and you can go to that drawer there—the bottom one. In the left-hand corner you'll find a work-box. Will you bring it to me?"
Cherry did as desired, and when it was placed on the bed, Miss Hobson raised herself on her elbow.
"Yes," she said, "that's it. That was give to me when I was a young woman, all fitted up as nice as anything, with scissors, and thimble, and cottons and all. It was give to me by my young man as was drowned at sea, and I've kept it hoarded up this thirty years. But now I'm going to give it to you, Cherry. Why should it lie there when there's one of my Lord's little ones as 'ud be glad of it for their work?"
"Do you really mean for me, Miss Hobson?" asked Cherry, looking at the beautiful box as if she could not believe what she had heard.
"Yes; it will not make him as is gone seem more far off, for your havin' it. He was always generous, and he'd have liked you to have it, as these poor old rheumatic fingers of mine can't use it no longer."
She wept a little, while Cherry stood by, hardly liking to take her at her word.
"You see, Cherry," Miss Hobson went on, cheering up as she spoke, "I've been too apt to think of myself all my life, so the Lord has made it so as I've only myself left to think about. And then He begins to teach me to think about Him. And every day, as I think about Him, I care less about myself, and more about Him. And so it comes to pass as He brings me you to think of too. And by-and-by He'll let me do something for you, perhaps, more'n giving you my dear work-box."
"I can't begin to thank you," said Cherry, "but it is kind of you. I never saw such a nice one in my life. Are you sure as you won't be sorry as you've give it to me, Miss Hobson?"
"No—no, my dear; not so long as you take care on it."