"Pa thinks that baby is a spirit made out of air," said Maria, laughing in high excitement. "And, mother, don't you really believe now the Lord did send her, just as much as if she dropped down out of the sky?"
"Yes, I hain't a doubt of it, Maria, but what the Lord had us in his mind when he let the child slip off and get lost.—Pa, I'm going to give you some of that blackberry cordial now: you look all gone."
CHAPTER XI.
"THE HEN-HOUSES."
While the Brooks family were talking so gratefully, and Maria counting over the cookies and cups of jelly for the twentieth time, Fly, was holding on to Horace's thumb, saying, as she skipped along,—"I hope the doctor'll take a knife, and pick Maria's eyes open, so she can see."
"Precious little you care whether she can see or not," said Dotty. "I don't think Fly has much feeling,—do you, Prudy?—not like you and I, I mean!"
"Pshaw! what do you expect of such a baby?" said Horace, indignantly. "You never saw a child so full of pity as this one is, when she knows what to be sorry for. But a great deal she understands about blindness! And why should she?—Look here, Topknot; which would you rather do? Have your eyes put out, and lots of candy to eat, or, your eyes all good, and not a speck of candy as long as you live?"
"I'd ravver have the candy 'thout blind-eyed?"
"But supposing you couldn't have but one?"