"Mother has put in a shawl for Sally," said Faith, getting out the package;—(it was one that Mrs. Derrick found she could do without,)—"and a little paper of tea,—tea is Sally's greatest delight,—here it is!"
Sally's abode was in nothing different from the run of poor houses in the country; unpainted of course, outside and inside; a rag carpet on the floor, a gay patchwork coverlet on the bed. Sally herself was in the rocking-chair before a little wood fire. But there was not the look of even poor comfort which may sometimes be seen; want, that told of lack of means and that also went deeper, was visible in everything.
"I've come to wish you a happy new year, Sally," said Faith brightly.
"Laws! I wonder where it's to come from!" said Sally. "If wishin' I would fetch it—I've wished it to myself till I'm tired. Happy new years don't come to all folks. Aint that—How do you do, sir!—aint it the gentleman Jenny told of? that fell down at Mr. Simlins' door?"
"And got up again?" said Mr. Linden. "Yes, I presume I am the very person Jenny told of. I remember that Jenny was very kind to me, too. Where is she?"
"O she's to Mr. Simlinses all along! she's got a good place; she knows when she's comfortable. She don't think of me stayin' here all alone."
"But aren't you comfortable, Sally?" said Faith.
"I should like to know how I would be! Folks that is comfortable thinks all the world is like them! If they didn't they'd help."
"Well what is the first thing that would help to make you comfortable?" said Mr. Linden.
Sally looked at him, up and down.