"How do you do, Molly?" her little soft voice said. Molly looked glum, and spoke never a word.
"I have been waiting to see you," Daisy said, advancing a step nearer—"and you did not come out. I was afraid you were sick."
One of Molly's grunts came here. Daisy could not tell what it meant.
"Are you sick, Molly?"
"It's me and not you"—said the cripple morosely.
"O I am sorry!" said Daisy tenderly. "I want to bring in something for you—"
She ran away for her basket. Coming back, she left the door open to let in the sweet air and sun.
"What is the matter with you, Molly?"
The cripple made no answer, not even a grunt; her eyes were fastened on the basket. Daisy lifted the cover and brought out her cake, wrapped in paper. As she unwrapped it and came up to Molly, she saw what she had never seen before that minute,—a smile on the cripple's grum face. It was not grum now; it was lighted up with a smile, as her eyes dilated over the cake.
"I'll have some tea!" she said.