Mr. M'Cosh regarded his wife with a smile lurking it around the corners of his mouth, and an expression of amusement in his mild blue eyes; and when he spoke again, it was to change the conversation.
Supper finished, Mrs. M'Cosh washed and put away the supper things, then sat down near the open window opposite to her husband. This was the hour of the day she liked best, but to-night she failed to enjoy it quite so much as usual by reason of her mind being so full of the sick woman upstairs. She was obviously restless and ill at ease. At ten o'clock, that being the time at which they generally began to think of going to bed, she fetched her Bible and read a chapter aloud as she did every night. On this occasion it was the twenty-fifth chapter of Saint Matthew's Gospel which she read, and when she had finished it, she shut the Bible, and looked exceedingly thoughtful.
"There's wonderful teaching in those last verses," observed Mr. M'Cosh meditatively, with a sly glance at his better half. "'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me,'" he quoted; "to think that the smallest act of kindness one may do is doing it unto Him! 'Tis a solemn thought."
Mrs. M'Cosh had no answer ready, but the expression of her face was gentler than usual, and a little regretful as she reflected that the privilege of helping others for Christ's sake might have been oftener hers if she had pleased.
She made no mention of Mrs. Renford to her husband on the following morning. He was up and at work soon after daybreak, and came home to breakfast at eight o'clock. When he had gone again, his wife left her own domain, and for the first time during the many years she had lived in the house, found her way upstairs. Flight after flight she climbed until the top storey was reached and the attic where the sick woman and her little daughter dwelt. The sound of a sewing machine fell upon her ears as she knocked at the closed door. Immediately, the "whirr-whirr-whirr" of the machine ceased, and Felicia answered her summons.
"Oh!" cried the little girl, "I am sorry I have not returned your dish; I was going to do so by-and-by. It was a most lovely supper—"
"I have not come about the dish," interposed Mrs. M'Cosh, panting, for she was breathless after her climb, "but to inquire for your mother. How is she this morning?"
"Please come in," said the invalid, recognising the visitor's voice. Then, as Mrs. M'Cosh entered the room, she exclaimed with real pleasure in her tone: "How good of you to come to inquire for me! I am so glad to see you, for I want to thank you for your kindness to us last night."
"Don't mention it," replied Mrs. M'Cosh.
She took the chair Felicia placed for her by the bedside, and proceeded to examine the sick woman's countenance critically.