Mrs. Morris’s thin and sallow face gleamed with satisfaction at the sight of her welcome guest; but she shook her head as one who had made up her mind to say “good-bye” to hope, and accept the inevitable. “No, Miss Blyth, I don’t feel better; I’m not able to say just what ails me, or where or what my complaint is. But I’m wearing away, slowly and surely, and at times I feel such a sinking and a fainting, that I sit waiting and waiting, thinking every moment will be my last.” “Yes, that’s just it. I don’t believe in ‘thinking and waiting’ of that kind. When you feel a sinking and a fainting, you should tell Mary to get you a little beef-tea, or a cup of tea, to give you a rising; and make up your mind that you aren’t going to die yet, because you’re wanted here.” “Nay, I don’t know about that,” said the despondent soul, always entertaining hard thoughts about herself. “I’m not wanted here. I’m such a poor helpless invalid that I’m no use to anybody.” “Oh, that’s it, is it? Mary Morris you just come here. Now, Mrs. Morris, just tell her, will you, that she doesn’t want you, and that you are no use to her!” Mrs. Morris looked at the speaker, and then into her daughter’s loving and gentle face, down which the tears were quietly descending, and said, as she put her arms around her neck,-- “No. God bless her, I can’t say that, for I know she loves her mother.” Mary returned the embrace warmly, saying,-- “Love you? Aye, that I do, next to my God.” “Why, bless my life, Mrs. Morris, there are folks in the world that haven’t got so much as a cat or a dog to wag their tails when they see ’em; and you’ve got such a wealth of tenderness as there is in this girl’s heart to call your own. When did Bob and Dick come to see you last?” “Oh, they were both here last Sunday. No, Bob was here on Monday, too, and again last night.” “What did he want?” said Miss Inquisitive. “Oh, only to inquire how I was. Last night he brought me a few oranges that he had bought.” “Indeed! Where did he get _them_, I wonder?” “He fetched them from Kesterton on Monday night after his day’s work was over.” “Oh, that’s it, is it? And so you have two good sons, who come and spend their Sundays, the only day in the week they have at liberty. One comes again on Monday, after toiling all the day, and the other poor, tired lad goes all the way to Kesterton to buy some oranges to refresh you, and yet you dare to tell me you are not wanted! God bless them both! How dare you?” At that moment Piggy Morris came in from a distant market. “Good-night, Miss Blyth,” said he. “It’s as good as a golden guinea to see your smiling face.” “Is it?” said Lucy. “Then give me a golden guinea for our new chapel, and you shall look at it again.” A sudden thought struck her. She saw he was in a good humour. Probably markets had been favourable and bargains good. It was a hazard, but she risked it.