"I haven't a bad temper," said Bertha simply; "and I used to read aloud to mother while she was sewing—we both of us liked books. How I wish she would try me!"
"Perhaps she will; at any rate, you shall be looked after in some way. I am poor, myself, but I'm sure our circle will see that you find work. Do you know what the 'King's Daughters' are?"
"I've heard of them, but you're the first I ever met. If they're all like you, the Lord must be proud to own them."
The sincere, almost childish, tone in which these words were said divested them of any irreverence. Sara merely smiled, as she told Bertha some of their aims and practices; and when Mrs. Pierce returned, she was astonished to see her patient sitting up in bed, with almost a flush on her cheeks, and a glad light in her eyes.
"Lawful suz!" she cried in the doorway, "what have you done to her?"
"Fed her," laughed Sara; "and I have been helping her to take my prescriptions, you see. Won't you join us?"
"Well, I'm beat! Thank you—guess I will. Was that all't ailded her— jest hunger?"
"That's all," answered Bertha for herself, "and quite enough too!"
Then she repeated something of her story, thanking the good woman heartily for her kindness. It was decided she should stay till Monday with Mrs. Pierce, who seemed anxious to befriend the girl, though so poor herself; and Sara finally left them, still planning most amicably, in order to reach home before darkness should necessitate Morton's coming after her.
"How much cooler it seems!" she thought, as she stepped into the street, glancing up at the sky, which was partially overcast with purplish-black clouds; "I wish, now, I had brought a wrap."