I would like to take the child and do for her. Let
her come to you here, for lessons, but let me bring her up in my house."
There was an awful pause. Parson Henderson looked at his wife, but said
never a word, helplessly leaving it to her.
"Dear Miss Parrott," said Mrs. Henderson, and she so far forgot her fear of
the stately, reserved parishioner as to lay her hand on the black-mitted
one of the visitor, "we were given the care of the child by Mr. King, who
rescued her from her terrible surroundings, and we couldn't possibly
surrender this charge to another. But I will tell you what we might do,
husband," and her eyes sought his face. "Rachel might go down now and then
to spend the day with Miss Parrott. Oh, your beautiful house!" she broke
off like a child in her enthusiasm. "I do so want her to be in it
sometimes." She turned suddenly to the visitor.
Miss Parrott's old face glowed, and a smile lingered among the wrinkles.
"And she must pass the night occasionally," she said. There was a world of
entreaty in her eyes. "I think so," said Mrs. Henderson, "but we must leave
that to Rachel."
And Rachel, in the keeping-room closet, was trilling up and down some of
the jigs her feet had kept time to when she, with the other tenement-house
children, had run out to dance on the corner when the organ man came round,
all unconscious of what was going on in the study.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173