"Why do you rub at the knives forever?" asked Mary. Mary was the cook.
"Because they are in my corner," Georgia said, brightly. "'You in your small corner,' you know, 'and I in mine.' I will do the best I can; that is all I can do."
"I would not waste my strength," said Mary. "I know that no one will notice."
"Jesus will," said Georgia; and then she sang again,—
"You in your small corner,
And I in mine."
"Cooking the dinner is in my corner, I suppose," said Mary to herself. "If that child must do what she can, I suppose I must. If Jesus knows about knives, it is likely that he does about dinners." And she took particular pains.
"Mary, the dinner was very nicely cooked today," Miss Emma said.
"That is all due to Georgia," said Mary, with a pleased face. Then she told about the knives.
Miss Emma was ironing ruffles; she was tired and warm. "Helen will not care whether they are fluted or not," she said. "I will hurry them over." But after she heard about the knives, she did her best.
"How beautifully my dress is done!" Helen said. Emma, laughing, answered,
"That is owing to Georgia." Then she told about the knives.