"I wouldn't want any better for myself," said Barby determinately.
"I would for you," said Fleda.
She thought of Mr. Carleton's words again, and went on in spite of herself.
"It is a mistake, Barby. The best of us do not deserve anything good; and if we have the sight of a friend's face, or the very sweet air we breathe, it is because Christ has bought it for us. Don't let us forget that, and forget him."
"I do, always," said Barby crying,--"forget everything. Fleda, I wish you'd pray for me when you are far away, for I ain't as good as you be."
"Dear Barby," said Fleda, touching her shoulder affectionately, "I haven't waited to be far away to do that."
Barby sobbed for a few minutes with the strength of a strong nature that rarely gave way in that manner; and then dashed her tears right and left, not at all as if she were ashamed of them, but with a resolution not to be overcome.
"There won't be nothing good left in Queechy, when you're gone, you and Mis' Plumfield--without I go and look at the place where Hugh lies--"
"Dear Barby," said Fleda with softening eyes, "won't you be something good yourself?"
Barby put up her hand to shield her face. Fleda was silent for she saw that strong feeling was at work.