"How brave you are, Salome!" And Margaret wondered if she had Salome's trouble, whether she would ever be happy for a day or even an hour.
The other shook her head. She did not think she was brave at all, but she took the sunshine of her life gratefully, and tried not to remember the hours of gloom.
"I wish I could knit," said Margaret, as she watched the lame girl's busy fingers.
"Why don't you learn, miss? Then you might knit your father's socks."
"Do you think I could?"
"Oh, yes, with a little practice. Would you—would you like me to teach you?" Salome asked somewhat diffidently.
"Oh, I should be so much obliged to you if you would! Oh, thank you! I'll buy some wool and knitting needles the very next time we drive to N—. But I'm afraid you'll find me a very stupid pupil."
"I can't believe that, miss. Besides, knitting is quite easy—of course it takes time to learn to knit fast. You can get knitting needles and wool at Mrs. Moyle's shop; she keeps a very good supply."
"Does she? That's capital! Oh Salome, whatever has happened to that rose-bush by the gate? Why, it's smashed off close to the ground! What a pity!"
"Yes," was the response, spoken in a low, pained tone.