This was a much longer colloquy than usual; a few words were all there was time for, generally; and Rotha went on wondering and admiring to see how Mrs. Mowbray could make those few words tell for the pleasure and good of her beneficiaries. At last the whole round was made, the last package disposed of, and Mrs. Mowbray and Rotha found themselves in the carriage again. Rotha for her part was glad; she did not like the Home, as I have said; the sight of the people was painful to her, even with all the alleviations of pleasure. She was glad to be driving away from the place. What did they know of Bagster's Bibles and Russia covered travelling bags? Poor creatures! And Rotha's heart was leaping at thought of her own.
They went in silence for a while.
"Aren't you very tired, Mrs. Mowbray?" Rotha ventured at last.
"Tired?" said Mrs. Mowbray brightly, rousing herself. "I don't know! I don't stop to think whether I am tired. There will be plenty of time to rest, by and by."
"That does not hinder one from feeling tired now," said Rotha, who did not enjoy this doctrine.
"No, but it hinders one from minding it," said Mrs. Mowbray. "Do all you can for other people, Rotha; it is the greatest happiness you can find in this life."
"Do you think you had as much pleasure in getting those things for me, Mrs. Mowbray,—my bag and my Bible,—and all my things,—as I had, and have, in receiving them?"
Mrs. Mowbray smiled. "Do they give you pleasure?" she asked.
"More than you can think—more than I can tell. I think I am dreaming!"
"Then that gives me pleasure. What are you going to do with your
Bible?"