The man turned away, and brushed his hand across his eyes. “Gosh!” he said simply. “I guess you’re a good woman.”
“I’m just Grandmother,” said the girl; “that’s all, isn’t it, Nelly? Good-bye, father!”
“Good-bye, father!” echoed the child, clinging round Grandmother’s neck as though she feared she might vanish suddenly into thin air.
“Sure she won’t pester ye?” said the man, timidly. “She’s real clever!”
“You won’t pester me, will you, Nelly?” said Grandmother.
“Nelly Nell, Nelly Nell,
Come and hear the flowers tell
How they heed you,
Why they need you,
How they mean to love you well.”
And off they went together, little Nelly nodding and waving her hand, with a wholly new smile on her pale shrivelled face.
“Gosh!” said the father again; he had not many words, and only one to express emotion.
When the other children came, they found a little girl with a radiant face, crowned with a forget-me-not wreath, and with the prettiest pale blue scarf over her shoulders, all embroidered with butterflies. She was sitting in a low round chair with cushioned back, and chair and cushion and child were all heaped and garlanded with flowers, daisies and lilies, pink hawthorn and great drifts of snowballs.