“She is nearly done with all sorrow now. She must be glad of that,” thought Allison.
“I hope they will not be anxious about you at home,” said Mrs Esselmont, speaking softly not to waken Marjorie.
“No, madam, I don’t think it. And Mrs Hume will be sure to send one of the lads with a lantern if the rain should keep on.”
“They know you are to be trusted with the child. You have done her much good, poor wee lammie.”
“She has done me much good,” said Allison.
“I am sure of it. In the way of kindness done, as in other ways, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ You are a good nurse, Allison.”
“I love the child. It is a great pleasure to do for her.”
“It is your love for her that makes you wise and firm in dealing with her. And you have been a sick-nurse, I hear.”
Mrs Esselmont was thinking of the time which Allison had passed in the infirmary, but Allison had for the moment forgotten that. Her thoughts had gone back to her home and her mother, who had needed her care so long.
“My mother was long ill, and there was no one but me to do for her. I learned to do many things to ease and help her first, and my father afterward.”