"Are you sick, Molly?" said Daisy again; for in spite of this declaration, and in spite of her evident pleasure, Molly did not move.
"I'm aching all through."
"What is the matter?"
"Aching's the matter rheumatiz. I'll have some tea."
"It's nice and warm out in the sun," Daisy suggested.
"Can't get there," said Molly. "Can't stir. I'm all aches all over."
"How can you get tea, then, Molly? Your fire is quite out."
"Ache and get it " said the cripple, grumly.
Daisy could not stand that. She at first thought of calling her groom to make a fire; but reflected that would be a hazardous proceeding. Molly perhaps, and most probably, would not allow it. If she would allow her, it would be a great step gained. Daisy's heart was so full of compassion she could not but try. There was a little bit of an iron stove in the room, and a tea-kettle, small to match, stood upon it; both cold of course.
"Where is there some wood, Molly?" said Daisy, over the stove; "some wood and kindling? I'll try if I can make the fire for you, if you will let me, please."