As Mrs. Coker's well-known pony-carriage, drawn by the no less well-known brown pony, Bess, drew up before the post office, which was also the one shop of the place where groceries and household commodities could be obtained, heads appeared at the cottage windows; and a group of children, who had been playing a game of "last-touch" on the Green, drew near in anticipation of being spoken to by the occupants of the carriage—Mrs. Coker and Miss Lilian.
"Will one of you hold Bess, please?" Mrs. Coker asked with a smile. And immediately a roguish-looking urchin stepped forward and took up his post at the pony's head.
Mrs. Coker and Lilian alighted. The former had a word for each of the children; and the latter, though she only smiled upon them, left behind her a pleasant impression of sweetness and goodwill as she followed her mother into the post office.
"My! Don't I wish I was Miss Lilian to have such grand clothes to wear!" exclaimed one little maiden, who had been struck with admiration by Lilian's fur-trimmed jacket and cap to match.
"Oh, you forget!" cried another. "For my part, I'd rather be without the grand clothes, and be able to see. She has been blind all her life, as we all know, and always will be—my mother does charing at the Hall, and the servants there told her so."
A hush fell upon the little group, and no one spoke further of envying the blind child. And when she appeared again, they regarded her with a kind of reverence, wondering how, when God had laid such a heavy affliction upon her, she could appear so bright and happy.
The children watched with the greatest interest as Mrs. Coker and her little daughter went from cottage to cottage, the latter running to and from the pony-carriage with the various parcels she herself had helped to pack.
In the last cottage they visited was a very old woman, who sat by the fireside, bent nearly double with rheumatism. Her name was Nannie Davey. She lived by herself, and had the unenviable reputation of being the worst-tempered person in the parish. For her there was a small Christmas pudding, and some warm garments which Mrs. Coker had made.
"Are you coming to the entertainment in the schoolroom on Christmas Eve, Nannie?" inquired Mrs. Coker, after Nannie had thanked her with real gratitude for her kindness.
"I'm too old, ma'am," Nannie responded, as she felt the comfortable new clothing she held on her lap. "A poor, helpless body like me is best at home."