“Will you see after that poor young woman who was found in the shed?”
Naturally Mrs. Coney was taken by surprise. She didn’t much like it.
“After that young woman, Jane?”
“Yes; for me.”
“Mrs. Broom has seen to her,” returned Mrs. Coney, in a voice that sounded very frozen.
“Mother, dear,” said Jane, “I was comparing myself with her yesterday; wondering which of us was the worst off, the more miserable. I thought I was. I almost felt that I could have changed places with her.”
“Jane!” angrily interjected Mrs. Coney.
“I did. She knew the extent of her trouble, she could see all that it involved; I did not see the extent of mine. I suppose it is always thus—that other people’s sorrows seem light when compared with our own. The reason must no doubt be that we cannot realize theirs, whilst we realize ours only too keenly.”
“My dear, I don’t care to talk of this.”
“Nor I much—but hear me for a minute, mother. God has been so merciful to me, and she is still as she was, that I—I should like to do what I can for her when we come back again, and comfort and keep her.”