"They were really so delightful," I began, with the natural reaction from my qualms.
"Oh, wur-r-r!" interrupted that horrible grating voice, and then laughed high and loud.
The sisters in affliction rose and bore the cage out into the shed But I heard oaths and cackles of malicious intention fired at me through the door.
"Sing 'We be a-sailin',' sister," said Aunt Electry, when we had retired again to the fireside.
Miss Gozeman obediently began, in a soft, timid tremulo.
"We are eout on the ocean sailing," came in mocking, strident accents from the wood-shed; "Oh, h—ll! give us a rest!" But dear Aunt Gozeman sang right on, smiling pitifully:
"'To our home beyond the tide.'"
Ah, what tides! what tides had been in these two lives! And stranded here for a little, how they cherished with a great heart of compassion the dead trees that bore them no fruit, loving and pitying the wicked parrot that mocked at them, the crow that stole from them, the goat that upset them.
My own notions of charity seemed so little and mean in comparison.
"Ask me again," I pleaded; "I have been so seldom invited to tea. I have enjoyed it."