The freedom with which her sister went in and out of her apartment was already an annoyance to Rosa, and her first impulse was to send them away, that she might read her Bible alone, as she had intended. Then her confirmation vow came to her remembrance. She had promised "to love her neighbour as herself, to do unto others as she would they should do unto her." Would she like to be sent away from a person she loved? and was it not a part of her duty to make those around her happy? Her first impulse was conquered, and she turned cheerfully to the children, who felt uncomfortable for a moment, they hardly knew why, and said, "Come, let us sit here by the window; I am going to read, and you shall listen to me, if you please."
They looked delighted. Lucy dropped upon a low footstool by her sister's side, and Harty stood watching eagerly to see what was to be the chosen book. He seemed disappointed when Rosa took up her little Bible, and shook his head when she asked him if he would not take the vacant chair beside her.
She began to read in the fifth chapter of Mark, "And, behold, there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name; and when he saw Him [Jesus], he fell at His feet, and besought Him greatly, saying, My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live."
Rosa had taken great pains to learn to read properly and pleasantly, for her uncle had told her that to be an agreeable reader was one way of being useful. Now her voice was sweet and natural, and she seemed herself so interested, that Lucy caught her spirit even before the "little daughter" was mentioned; but at these words her attention was fixed, and she listened eagerly to hear what was to follow.
Harty, meanwhile, stood rolling the corner of the neat white curtain in his hands, which were not particularly clean, and looking undecidedly about him. When Rosa finished the sentence, he hurried from the room, saying, "I'm going to see my chickens."
She glanced at the soiled curtain and then at Harty as he closed the door: for a moment she looked fretted, but it was only a moment; a sweet smile took the place of the half-formed frown, and she went on with the reading.
Lucy had heard the story before of the raising of the ruler's daughter, but now it seemed quite new to her, and her eyes were bright with wonder and pleasure, as her sister closed the book.
"Rosa," she said, "I should like to have been that little girl!"
"Why?" said Rosa,
"Because—because," answered Lucy—"because she must have been so glad to be alive again. I wonder what she said when they told her all that had happened."