“I can’t help it,” said Drom. “You know we always used to call her the Basket Woman. I suppose you are mighty fond of her; she would do anything you asked her, and Mr. Knight would do anything she asked him; so it all depends on you whether I am to be sent away from the place like a thief, or whether a home can be spared for me here. Anyway, as I have walked more than twenty miles to-day, I suppose I may take a seat on your doorstep for ten minutes.”
Fanny began to feel ashamed of her inhospitable mood. “Come in, Drom,” she said; “we must put you up somewhere for the night. If you go back to London it must be by train, and there is no train from here till Monday. We will make the best of it. But I must report the case to Mr. Knight, of course; it is for him to decide it.”
Fanny led the way into her own bedroom, which was plainly, but comfortably, furnished. The only thing in it that was not absolutely for use was a text, framed, and hung upon the wall. Mary Wythburn had given it to her, and Fanny wondered sometimes whether the words had been selected that they might preach a constant sermon. They were: “Freely ye have received, freely give,” and they seemed fairly to stare at her on this evening when she took her unwelcome guest into her room. “I cannot feel glad to see her,” her thought replied to the text; “but I will be good to her, because I have myself received so very much.”
“This is too fine for me,” said Andromeda, as she looked at the white bed and the clean aspect of the little chamber. “I can sleep anywhere, Fan, for I am so dead beat.”
“The more reason why you should be comfortable,” was the reply. “I can make you up a little bed here while you have some supper. And you would like a bath, wouldn’t you?”
The poor overwearied girl cried a little, and Fanny relented and became kind; but she was almost too tired to eat or think, and very soon she was fast asleep.
When she awoke the next morning the light was streaming into the room, the soft winds were stirring the leaves into whispers, and the larks were pouring down their music upon the happy earth. Fanny was kneeling by the side of the bed, with an open Bible before her, and a look of quiet happiness upon her face. Presently she closed the book, and her eyes and her lips moved as if in prayer. Andromeda watched her most curiously, lying very quietly the while, and wondering what it was that Fanny was saying, and whether there was really a God who cared to listen, and who could answer prayer.
The eyes of the two girls met as Fanny arose from her kneeling posture, and seeing that Drom was awake, she went swiftly toward her, and kissed her.
“Why do you do that? You know you don’t like me,” said Drom, but her face lighted with pleasure, and her heart beat more quickly.
“Yes, I do like you—a little,” said Fanny. “I am not a very affectionate girl, but I have been reading about Jesus, and talking to Him, and after that I always feel as if I love everybody.”