Well, I was
fretting about this fear, and Alice comes in for something, and
finds me crying. I would not tell her no more than I would you,
Mary; so she says, 'Well, dear, you must mind this, when you're
going to fret and be low about anything--An anxious mind is never a
holy mind.' O Mary, I have so often checked my grumbling sin'* she
said that."
*Sin'; since.
"SIN that his lord was twenty yere of age."
--Prologue to Canterbury Tales.
The weary sound of stitching was the only sound heard for a little
while, till Mary inquired--
"Do you expect to get paid for this mourning?"
"Why, I do not much think I shall. I've thought it over once or
twice, and I mean to bring myself to think I shan't, and to like to
do it as my bit towards comforting them. I don't think they can
pay, and yet they're just the sort of folk to have their minds
easier for wearing mourning. There's only one thing I dislike
making black for, it does so hurt the eyes."
Margaret put down her work with a sigh, and shaded her eyes.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108