“Well, no matter, nor mutter either,” said Adele. “It’s the way they get at it. She is not beautiful, but she has something better—she can——”
“Use machinery,” muttered Paul, the incorrigible. “No, Adele, she is not handsome——”
“No, but she is good and true, poor old woman. If I had to make the choice, I would rather have her prayerful spirit than even beauty.”
Paul looked at the lovely girl to whom he was betrothed, and thought her an enthusiast quite equal to the old woman; then upon second thought:
“Adele!”
“Well?”
“I suppose you are right, but I’m glad you don’t look like her.”
While they watched, the poor priestess was still tugging at her wheel; she had but little strength and it was so heavy. None of her people offered to help.
Adele’s interest increased, until a glow came into her eyes also; seizing Paul by the arm, she whispered:
“It’s—it’s too much for her, Paul; see! she cannot move it. You must help—no, I;” and the next instant Adele was beside the Taoist on the floor; each helping the other to turn the wheel, each trying to pray according to her own previous experience. Adele said afterwards it took about all the strength she had.