And because of her yellow hair, she might play with the cart.
“But aren’t you sick, and oughtn’t you to take some medicine, and go to bed?” asked the lady, whose hair had grown gray over sickness and medicine.
Puppet meditated. She felt very well. She thought that she had rather play with the tip-cart than to take medicine. So she played all day, and went to bed at night.
At night John come home from his work, and, as usual, heard of all that had happened through the day.
“I wish we could keep the little thing, John, dear. She has yellow hair, just like—”
“Yes,” said John, “I saw.”
“And she’d be such a comfort!”
“If she didn’t die by and by,” said John.
“But, John, dear, just think of a little thing like her spending the night in the middle of a meadow, with the water all about her.”
John thought. And he thought that if she could stand that without being sick, she could stand their love without dying.