"Shall I ever learn, do you think?" asked Johnny.
"Oh yes! You are doing a little better every day. Pretty soon you can begin to knit sponge-towel, and when it is done, you can give it to Mrs. Franklin for a present."
"Won't that be nice? When I go where my mamma is, Amity, I shall tell her how good you have been to her poor little boy, And you, too," he added, turning to Mrs. Franklin, who sat by as if afraid she might be hurt; "I shall tell her you were almost the same as my own mother; not quite the same, you know—nobody could be that."
"You are my dear little boy," said Mrs. Franklin, kissing the poor little thin hand Johnny held out to her; "but your hands are hot, Johnny; does your side ache again?"
"A little," said Johnny.
"Where have you been, and where do you keep yourself all the mornings?" asked Emma Fairchild, as she met Amity on the veranda when the lesson was done. "Why don't you come out after breakfast when it is cool and pleasant?"
"I am busy then," said Amity.
"Why, surely you don't do lessons now you are here!" said Emma.
"Not my own lessons," returned Amity.
"I know what she does: she is teaching that idiot boy to knit," said Maud. "Mrs. Franklin told mamma so."