She was coughing badly just then, and when the fit was over she shook her head. "Not very likely now Mr. John; but He knows I was willing, so it doesn't matter."
She got more cheerful then, and asked him to come and see her again before he went back to London, which he promised to do; and then he rose to go away.
"You must not fret about the empty box," he said, "or I shall scold you next time I come. And look here, Miss Toosey, you have never asked me to subscribe, though I have often teased you by pretending to put buttons and rubbish into the box."
"Will you really?" she said. "I always fancied that you did not hold with missions, and thought them rather nonsense, though you were so kind to me about it; but if you would it would be a comfort to think the box was not quite empty."
He felt in his pocket, but his purse was not there. "You must give me credit, Miss Toosey," he said, smiling; "I shall consider it a debt. I promise to give—let me see—I must think how much I can afford. I promise to give something to your Mission. And now make haste to bed, and get well."
She was collecting her things together to go upstairs,—her spectacle-case, Bible, and one or two books; and out of one of them a printed bit of paper slipped and fluttered to John Rossitter's feet as he stood at the door. It was the prayer for missions cut out of the magazine. He picked it up.
"And don't fret yourself about the prayer either," he said; "let me have it, may I? And suppose I say it for you? And don't you think that 'Thy kingdom come' will do for your missionary prayer till you are better?"
And she smiled and nodded just like her old self as she went out.
"She will soon be better," John said to Betty, as he passed her in the passage; but he did not guess how soon.
"Mother," he said next morning, coming into the breakfast-room with a large bunch of bloomy grapes in his hand, "will you make my peace with Rogers? I have cut the best bunch in his house, and I go in fear of my life from his vengeance."