"But what's the use?" said Nancy "you ain't going to die yet
you are too young you've time enough."
"Oh, Nancy! little John Dolan, and Eleanor Parsons, and Mary
Huff all younger than you and I; how can you say so?"
"Well," said Nancy "at any rate, that ain't reading it because you love it it's because you must, like other folks."
"That's only one of my reasons," said Ellen, hesitating, and speaking gravely; "I like to read about the Saviour, and what he has done for me, and what a friend he will be to me, and how he forgives me. I had rather have the Bible, Nancy, than all the other books in the world."
"That ain't saying much," said Nancy "but how come you to be so sure you are forgiven?"
"Because the Bible says, 'He that believeth on him shall not be ashamed,' and I believe in him and that he will not cast out any one that comes to him, and I have come to him and that he loves those that love him, and I love him. If it did not speak so very plainly, I should be afraid, but it makes me happy to read such verses as these. I wish you knew, Nancy, how happy it makes me."
This profession of faith was not spoken without starting tears. Nancy made no reply.
As Miss Fortune had foretold, plenty of people came to the house with proffers of service. Nancy's being there made it easy for Ellen to get rid of them all. Many were the marvels that Miss Fortune should trust her house to "two girls like that," and many the guesses that she would rue it when she got up again. People were wrong. Things went on very steadily, and in an orderly manner; and Nancy kept the peace as she would have done in few houses. Bold and insolent as she sometimes was to others, she regarded Ellen with a mixed notion of respect and protection, which led her at once to shun doing anything that would grieve her, and to thrust her aside from every heavy or difficult job, taking the brunt herself. Nancy might well do this, for she was at least twice as strong as Ellen; but she would not have done it for everybody.
There were visits of kindness as well as visits of officiousness. Alice and Mrs. Van Brunt and Margery, one or the other every day. Margery would come in and mix up a batch of bread; Alice would bring a bowl of butter or a basket of cake; and Mrs. Van Brunt sent whole dinners. Mr. Van Brunt was there always at night, and about the place as much as possible during the day; when obliged to be absent, he stationed Sam Larkens to guard the house, also to bring wood and water, and do whatever he was bid. All the help, however, that was given from abroad could not make Ellen's life an easy one; Mr. Van Brunt's wishes that Miss Fortune would get up again began to come very often. The history of one day may serve for the history of all those weeks.
It was in the beginning of April. Ellen came downstairs early, but come when she would, she found the fire made and the kettle on. Ellen felt a little as if she had not quite slept off the remembrance of yesterday's fatigue; however, that was no matter, she set to work. She swept up the kitchen, got her milk-strainer and pans ready upon the buttery shelf, and began to set the table. By the time this was half done, in came Sam Larkens with two great pails of milk, and Johnny Low followed with another. They were much too heavy for Ellen to lift, but true to her charge, she let no one come into the buttery but herself; she brought the pans to the door, where Sam filled them for her, and as each was done she set it in its place on the shelf. This took some time, for there were eight of them. She had scarce wiped up the spilt milk and finished setting the table, when Mr. Van Brunt came in.