"Why, child, are you here sewing?" her mother said. "I thought you had gone for a walk."
"No, mother; this dress seemed to be in my 'corner,' so I thought I would finish it."
"In your 'corner'!" her mother repeated in surprise, and then Helen told about the knives. The doorbell rang, and the mother went thoughtfully to receive her pastor. "I suppose I could give more," she said to herself, as she slowly took out the ten dollars that she had laid aside for missions. "If that poor child in the kitchen is trying to do what she can, I wonder if I am. I will make it twenty-five dollars."
And I seemed to hear Georgia's guardian angel say to another angel, "Georgia Willis gave twenty-five dollars to our dear people in India today."
"Twenty-five dollars!" said the other angel. "Why, I thought she was poor?"
"O, well, she thinks she is, but her Father in heaven is not, you know! She did what she could, and he did the rest."
But Georgia knew nothing about all this, and the next morning she brightened her knives and sang cheerily:—
"In the world is darkness,
So we must shine,
You in your small corner,
And I in mine."
—The Pansy.