“Have you got any shirts for me?” she inquired after a while.
“Yes,” said Martin, recollecting himself, and unrolling a bundle which he had placed on the table. “There are half a dozen for you to begin on; and, if you do them well, you can have some more.”
Floy looked pleased.
“Now,” said she, “I shall have something to do when you are away.”
“You like to be doing something?” said Martin, inquiringly.
“Oh, yes! I can’t bear to be idle.”
Martin did not go out again that afternoon. About six o’clock, Floy set the table, and placed upon it a plate of warm cakes which might have pleased the palate of an epicure. It was the best meal the miser had tasted for years, and he could not help confessing it to himself. Floy was gratified at the appetite with which he ate.
Thus matters went on. The presence of the little girl seemed to restore Martin to a part of his former self. He was no longer so grasping and miserly as before. Through little Floy’s ministry, he began to have more of a relish for the comforts of life, and less to grudge the expense necessary to obtain them.
It was not many weeks before he fell sick, in consequence of imprudent exposure to the rain. At first he did not regard it; but a fever set in, and he was confined to his bed.
At the urgent solicitation of Floy, he consented to have a physician called, though not without something of reluctance at the thought of the fee.