"Why, truly!" he cried. "Willie Hart is in charge of it without. We will bring it along the passage, and you will see it at the door; and you must not laugh, dear Judith—'tis a rude-made thing, I know—but serviceable—you shall have comfort from it, I warrant you."
They wheeled it along the passage, but could not get it within the apartment; however, through the open door she could see very easily the meaning and construction of it. And when she observed with what care and pretty taste it had been adorned for her, even to the putting ribbons at the front corners of the little canopy (but this was not the work of men's fingers; it was Prudence who had contributed these), she was not in the least inclined to laugh at the efforts of these good friends to be of use to her and to gratify her. She beckoned him to come to her.
"'Tis but a patchwork thing to look at," said he, rather shamefacedly, "but I hope you will find it right comfortable when you use it. I hope soon to hear of you trying it, Judith."
"Give me your hand," said she.
She took his hand and kissed it.
"I cannot speak my thanks to you," she said, in a low voice, "for not only this but all that you have done for me."
There were tears in her eyes, and he was so bewildered, and his heart so wildly aflame, that he could only touch her shoulder and say,
"Be still now, Judith. Be still and quiet, and perchance they may let me remain with you a little space further."