So while they sewed, sometimes one and sometimes another read poetry, and sometimes they read the Psalms, especially the Twenty-third, and sometimes Martha played the Melody in F, or the Shower of Stars or the Cinquieme Nocturne.
"We must think brave thoughts, too," said Miss Cordelia.
So after that, whenever one of them came to a stirring editorial in a newspaper, or a rousing passage in a book, it was put on one side to be read at their daily sewing bee; and when these failed they read Barbara Fritchie, or Patrick Henry, or Horatio at the Bridge.
"Do you notice how much better Josiah is looking!" whispered Miss
Cordelia to her sister one evening.
"A different man entirely," proudly nodded Miss Patty. "I heard him speaking yesterday about an addition to the factory—"
"I suppose it's because he's living in the future now—"
"Instead of in the past. But I do wish he wouldn't be quite so sure that it's going to be a boy. I'm afraid sometimes—that perhaps he won't like it—if it's a girl—"
They had grown beautiful as they spoke, but now they looked at each other in silence, the same fear in both their glances.
"Oh, Cordelia," suddenly spoke Miss Patty. "Suppose it is a girl—!"
"Hush, dear. Remember, we must have brave thoughts. And even if the first one is a girl, there'll be plenty of time for a boy—"