“I’ll be back in a moment,” Laura replied, and left the room, returning with dry stockings and slippers.
“Take off those wet things and heat your feet thoroughly—then put these on,” she ordered in a tone that admitted of no refusal.
With a frown, Olga obeyed. “But it’s nonsense—I never mind wet feet,” she grumbled.
“You ought to mind them. Your health is a gift. You have no right to throw it away—no right, Olga. It is yours—only to use—like everything else you have.”
Olga paused, one slipper in her hand, pondering that.
“Don’t you see, Olga,” Laura urged gently, “we are only stewards. Everything we have—health, time, money, intellect—all are ours only to use the little while we are in this world, and not to use for ourselves alone.”
“It makes life harder if you believe that,” Olga flung back defiantly. “I want my things for myself.”
“O no, it makes life easier, and O, so big and beautiful!” Laura leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “When we really accept this idea of service, then ‘self is forgotten.’ We give as freely as we have received.” Olga shook her head with a gesture that put all that aside.
“You said Saturday that you wanted my help——” she began.
“Yes, I do want your help. I’ll tell you how presently. Sadie Page is doing very well in the craft work, isn’t she?”