They walked for some distance, and the day was so warm that Miss
Schuyler moderated her usual rapid pace to suit the old man's feebler
steps. Off the Avenue a long way, up another, down a side street, until,
amid a crowded, disagreeable neighborhood, Joe stopped.
"You had better lead me still, Joe. The boy might be frightened or
annoyed at seeing a stranger: I dare say he's nervous. Go up, and I will
wait outside the door while you ask him if I may come and see him. Wait,
there's a flower-stall a little way from here; I will get a bunch. Take
my basket, and I will be back in a few moments. I am glad I thought of
the flowers; children always like them."
She hastened off, while Joe leaned on his cane and muttered blessings
upon her; but some rude boys beginning to chaff him, he turned on them
with his usual crustiness, and quite forgot his beatitudes.
Miss Schuyler came back in a few minutes with a lovely bunch of bright
blossoms embosomed in geranium leaves.
"Now, then, Joe, this shall be my card; take it in, and tell Phil I am
coming."
"God bless you, Miss Rachel!" was all Joe could reply.
Miss Rachel had her own way of doing things. It was nothing new for her
to carry flowers and dainties to the sick poor. She had been much with
sick people, and she knew that those who have no luxuries and few
necessaries care for the things which do not really sustain life quite
as much as do those who can command both.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96