"No," replied the minister, thoughtfully; "it is strange that true charity should be distasteful to any one." Then offering his hand, as he bade them good-by, he said to Emma, "I hope, my dear, that this charity abounds in you."
"O no," she replied, "it does not abound—although, I trust, it has a home in my poor heart."
Emma found the door of poor Graffam's hut open, and the mother sitting beside the cradle where lay the sick babe asleep.
"Walk in," said Mrs. Graffam, smiling as she advanced toward the door.
Dora was surprised at the ease of her manner, and the pleasant expression of her countenance, as she handed them chairs, and seemed really glad to see them.
"The babe is better," said she, as Emma advanced toward the cradle; and at that moment the little one awoke.
The good motherly Dora took the "wee bit" into her arms, and talked with Mrs. Graffam about the best course to be pursued with a feeble child like that, while Emma unpacked the stores which they brought, among which were many things not intended for baby, but which she delicately classed with the rest, calling the whole "medicine."
Mrs. Graffam was at first somewhat reserved; but as Dora talked to her as a friend and sister, the frost of her spirit melted away, and she spoke of her mother now dead, of brothers and sisters, some dead and some far away: and as she grew thus communicative, and the tears of fond recollection trembled in her eyes, Dora talked of Him, the dear unfailing friend, who sticketh closer than a brother; who, in all the afflictions of his people, is afflicted, and the angel of whose presence is with them to comfort and to bless.
Then poor Mrs. Graffam wept much, saying that she needed just such a friend. And when they went away, she wrapped the babe in a shawl, and, taking it in her arms, went with them to the road where they had left their horse.
"You will come and see me again, won't you?" she asked.