Mildred burst out into a clear, ringing laugh.
"No. A princess!"
Molly was perhaps a little disappointed, or perhaps she did not wholly believe her. She stroked the rose tenderly, and then held it out to Mildred, though her eyes were still fastened on it hungrily.
"You can have it," said Mildred, "for your own."
"Oh! For my own? My very own?" exclaimed the cripple, her whole face lit up. Mildred nodded.
"Oh! I never thought I should have a rose for my own, for my very own," she declared, holding it against her cheek, looking at it, smelling it and caressing it all at once, whilst Mildred looked on with open-eyed wonder and enjoyment.
Mildred asked a great many questions, and Molly told her all she knew about herself. She had been lying there in that little room for years without ever going out, and she had never seen the country. Mildred learned all about her life there; about the birds outside and the bird in the cage. Mildred could see it from the window when she climbed upon the bed. She thought of the roses in her garden and of the birds that sang around her home, flying about among the trees, and to think that Molly had never seen them! Her heart ached. It dawned upon her that maybe she could arrange to have her see it. She asked what she would rather have than anything in the world.
"In the whole world?" asked Molly.
"Yes, in the whole world."
Molly thought profoundly. "I would rather have that bird out there in the cage," she said.