Poll gave a quick, impulsive sort of sigh.
“Well, I’m glad as you finds the comfort o’ it, Betsy,” she said. “But what can I do for you? We’re most at the market now.”
“Ef you could lend me a shilling to buy flowers, neighbour? My man came in drunk last night, and he carried away every penny as I put by in the tin box. There’s little Jeanie, she is low and wake, and I’ve nothing for her breakfast but some tea-leaves that I’ve watered twice afore. Ef you lend me a shilling, Poll, jest to see me over to-day, I’ll pay you back sure and faithful to-morrow morning, so I will.”
Poll’s handsome face grew dark.
“In course I’d lend it to you, you poor critter,” she said, “but I han’t got it. You’ll scarce believe me when I say that I come out without a penny piece in my pocket. Jill and me, we are well-to-do, as flower girls go, but yesterday some villain of a thief came in and stole our bits of savings. I ha’ come out now to ask Dan Murphy to give me flowers on tick. I can’t help you, neighbour, however willin’ I am.”
Mrs Peters’s face turned deadly pale. She pulled her feeble arm away from Poll’s and looked at her with trembling lips and eyes that shone through a dim veil of tears.
“Oh, it seems orful,” she gasped. “And I made so positive as the Lord wor there, and that He heard me, and sent you as a hanswer. It seems—it seems as ef—”
“As ef there weren’t no Lord,” repeated Poll.
“No, no; ef I thought that—” Mrs Peters turned ghastly, and pressed her hand to her heaving heart.
“And you shan’t, neighbour,” exclaimed Poll, a great wave of crimson spreading over her face. “You shan’t lose your last drop of comfort, not ef I know why. You go and stand round there, neighbour, and I’ll come and share my flowers with you, see ef I don’t. I’ll go on tick for enough for us both. You stand there, Betsy, and wait, I’ll be safe to come back to you.”