"I have come," said Mrs. Gray, "with my little niece, who injured your daughter at school. She wishes to ask you to forgive her."
Nelly was crying bitterly, so that she could scarcely speak; but at last she sobbed out, "I didn't mean to hurt her so. I'm very sorry."
"Don't cry, pet!" said Mrs. Moran, kindly. "I dare say you meant her no harm; and if you did, sure and we all are in the wrong sometimes. Hitty lays up nothing against you. There, honey, stop a bit, and she'll tell you the same. Come, Hitty, tell the little girl you forgive her, since the lady is so kind as to ask it."
Hitty came forward with Bobby still in her arms, and when Nelly held out her hand, shook it cordially, saying, "My head is almost well now, and by to-morrow I'll never think of the blow again. I'm sorry for you, Nelly, to see you crying so."
Mrs. Gray sat for a time talking with Mrs. Moran, and encouraging her to allow Hitty to learn to read. There was one little boy just Frankie's age, whom the lady advised her to send to the public school.
This, the poor woman said, she should be glad to do, if the lad had clothes.
The next day, when Hitty returned from school, Nelly, Frankie, and Ponto accompanied her, each of them carrying a bundle as large as they could lift, with dresses, jackets, and sacks, the children had outgrown.
Mrs. Moran hardly knew how to express her gratitude, as she held up one article after another, and saw how nicely they would fit Ned or others among her children.
This lesson, though severe at the time, was never forgotten by Nelly. After this no one was more eager than she to show kindness to Hitty, or more pleased when the poor girl succeeded in learning to read.
In the afternoon most of the scholars repeated a hymn which they had learned at home, or a few verses from the Bible. Nelly noticed that Hitty never repeated any, and one day asked her the reason.