She was human; but good, beautiful, and wise. She came to his sermons, and understood every word.
"And she knows me better than I know myself," said he; "since I had these flowers from her hand, I am another man."
One day he came into his room and found two watering-pots there. One was large and had a rose to it, the other small and with a plain spout.
"Ah!" said he; and colored with delight. He called Betty, and asked her who had brought them.
"How should I know?" said she, roughly. "I dare say they dropped from heaven. See, there is a cross painted on 'em in gold letters."
"And so there is!" said Leonard, and crossed himself.
"That means nobody is to use them but you, I trow," said Betty, rather crossly.
The priest's cheek colored high. "I will use them this instant," said he. "I will revive my drooping children as they have revived me." And he caught up a watering-pot with ardor.
"What, with the sun hot upon 'em?" screamed Betty. "Well, saving your presence, you are a simple man."
"Why, good Betty, 't is the sun that makes them faint," objected the priest, timidly, and with the utmost humility of manner, though Betty's tone would have irritated a smaller mind.