She worked for them all, and looked after their home from morning till night, but it was all nothing, she told herself bitterly, and felt herself a very ill-used person. But what she did not tell herself, or perhaps did not realise, was that it is not so much what we do for people but the spirit in which it is done, that makes it a real kindness and wins their affection.
There was one tender little heart there, though, that bore her no ill-will, that, indeed, forgot everything but that she was in trouble and needed comforting.
"Auntie Emma, don't cry! Bella'll be better soon. Don't cry, Auntie Emma, or Margery'll cry too!" and two soft little hands tried to pull the work-worn ones away, and a gentle baby voice tried to bring comfort and cheer to the unhappy woman.
Aunt Emma, in a burst of real feeling, let the little hands uncover and gently pat her face, then, clasping the baby form to her, kissed her passionately again and again.
"You do care for your auntie, don't you, dear?" she sobbed, but softly and sorrowfully now. "You always will care for your poor auntie, won't you, dear?"
"Oh yes," promised Margery readily, anxious only to comfort and cheer, "when auntie isn't cross," she added innocently.
Miss Hender's loving clasp loosened a little. "Everybody is cross sometimes," she muttered excusingly. But many and many a time after that the memory of Margery's words came back to her, and stayed the first angry word or ill-natured act, and so averted a storm and hours of reproach.
"Bella is better! Look, her eyes are open!" and Margery clambered joyfully down from her aunt's lap and ran over to her sister's side.
For a moment Bella looked about her in a dazed fashion, then, memory returning, she raised herself and tried to stand.
"I am all right, thank you," she said, but she was glad enough to drop on to the old sofa and rest. Miss Hender rose too.