She was startled then, and disturbed to see that the old lady’s eyes had suddenly filled with tears. But all the quaint little person said was:
And indeed, as the preparations for the feast gayly proceeded, it almost seemed as though the little old lady grew younger. Her eyes became bright and a color warmed her sweet old face, making her look more than ever like a picture out of a story book.
“It is so lovely to have young ladies about,” she sighed, as Betty gayly tested the chicken with a fork and proclaimed that it was done. “Youth is a wonderful thing.”
“You,” said Betty, turning to her impulsively, “will never be old.”
The old lady shook her head, although the compliment evidently pleased her.
“My soul will remain young perhaps, my dear,” she said, gently. “But it is my body that must feel the weight of years.”
“After all,” returned the Little Captain, “it’s the soul that really counts. That’s what mother says.”
“You are a dear child,” returned the little old lady, reaching up to pat the hand that Betty had laid on her shoulder. “And you must have a very sweet mother. I envy her. I have always longed to have a daughter of my own.” At the words such a look of sadness spread over the wrinkled old face that Betty knew she had chanced upon a secret wound in the old lady’s heart. She had a quick moment of wondering what had been the early life of the Old Maid of the Mountains.
However, as Mollie announced that dinner was ready to serve, they were soon merry again, crowding eagerly about the table.