“And here’s a basket for you,” said Maggie, coming forward with her offering too; and she gave a pretty little basket, the work of the Indians, which she had bought for her own use: “you can put Bessie’s flowers in it, and it will look lovely. See, let me fix them for you,” and in two minutes her skilful little fingers had arranged the flowers most tastefully, greatly to the child’s delight.
“And am I to keep the basket?” asked the sick child.
“Oh, yes! for ever and ever if you like,” said Maggie; “and when the flowers are faded you can take them out and put some more in.”
“I don’t often have flowers,” said the child; “but I love them so: only I don’t like to take all yours,” she added, looking at Bessie.
“Oh! she is going to have half mine,” said Maggie; “you needn’t be troubled about that. Good-by now,” and she and Bessie ran after their parents, leaving the sick child brightened and happy.
Bessie’s Travels. [p. 268.]
Her mother had been standing near enough to hear and see all that had passed; and so you will not wonder that now, when she turned and saw Maggie and Bessie, her harsh look and tone became gentle and pleasant.
“Oh! it’s you, you little dears,” she said. “Now, is there ever a thing I can do for you?”
“Yes,” said Bessie. “We are so sorry for Matilda, and we wanted to know if you would let us pay for the pitcher she broke if we have money enough, and try her just once more?”