"Why, Maggie," she said, "I did not know you were there. Come and have a run with mother."
"Oh, yes, mother, but Maggie wants her dinner!"
"And Maggie shall have it," said the young mother, bending her golden head down over the child with a fond embrace, "grandmother is getting it ready."
Thus assured, the child raced down the little garden, and her mother, not yet twenty-four years old, ran after her till she caught her.
Then they sat on a little bench under an apple-tree, and Maggie climbed up in her mother's lap, and laid her head on her bosom. It seemed a place well-known; and when the young woman softly began talking, the child did not seem surprised, but raised her eyes and listened.
"Long ago, Maggie, there was a poor woman. She was very poor indeed; but she had one thing that made her rich."
"Was it a shilling?" asked Maggie.
"No; it was something I have, something I love best in the world next to God."
"That's me!" said Maggie, nodding.
"Yes, you; and this poor widow had a boy, just only one."