The woman turned away to the other room, nominally to fetch the baby, who was stirring, but really to get rid of a few tears. It was the way it was done, she told herself, that was so nice. She couldn't have let every one do her such a kindness.
"Mind you stir it while I am gone," said Meg, "because they won't take to burnt porridge, for certain! You see it doesn't need much fire after once the saucepan boils."
When she came back with the pound of sugar and a pint of milk, the porridge had had its full half-hour, and was done.
"Now stand it on the hob, and if it simmers a little it will not hurt at all. Pour it out the last thing, and see if they do not like it better than bread, and feel more satisfied too. I've heard that it is the best thing you can have to make children grow."
"May I bring back your spoon and tell you how I got on with it?" asked Mrs. Blunt, already longing to taste what looked and smelt so good.
"Do; I shall be glad to see you," answered Meg. Then pausing with a sudden remembrance, she said, blushing, "Do you remember those loving words of our Saviour to all who are weary and troubled, 'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee'?"
"I've heard 'em before," answered the woman, "but I don't know much about it."
"We all can, just by taking Him at His word," said Meg gently, "and I don't know a burden that any one can have that will be too hard for Him to help in."
The woman looked in Meg's face to see if she really meant it, and the clear eyes she met were too earnest to be mistaken.
The woman wrung her hand and went back to the porridge without speaking.