Again we turned, and pattered back post-haste up the Barrow Road to a distant cottage.
“Is it a good thing to get a blessing?” asked Bess, suddenly.
“A very good thing, for it makes even the richest richer.”
“Then,” answered Bess, “when I grow up I mean to get a great many blessings.”
“How, little one, will you do that?”
“Why,” answered Bess, “I shall give to everybody everything they want, and buy for all the children all the toys that I can find.”
“But supposing that you are not rich, that you haven’t money in your purse, or a cheque-book from the bank like papa?”
“Then I shall have to pray—and that will do it, for I’m sure the good Lord wouldn’t like to disoblige me.”
At last all our visits were paid, and we had left seven happy old souls, whom it was a comfort to think would all sleep the sounder for our visit of that day.
As we drove home, Bess suddenly turned round and said—