"Yes, Mrs. Watson," Mrs. Francis said sweetly. "I thought
perhaps you were not feeling well to-day. I have not
heard you singing at your work, and the washing seems to
have gone slowly. You must be very careful of your health,
and not overdo your strength."

While she was speaking, Mrs. Watson's eyes were busy with
the room, the pictures on the wall, the cosey window-seat
with its numerous cushions; the warmth and brightness of
it all brought a glow to her tired face.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, "thank ye kindly, ma'am. It is
very kind of ye to be thinkin' o' the likes of me."

"Oh, we should always think of others, you know," Mrs.
Francis replied quickly with her most winning smile, as
she seated herself in a rocking-chair. "Are the children
all well? Dear little Danny, how is he?"

"Indade, ma'am, that same Danny is the upsettinest one
of the nine, and him only four come March. It was only
this morn's mornin' that he sez to me, sez he, as I was
comin' away, 'Ma, d'ye think she'll give ye pie for
your dinner? Thry and remimber the taste of it, won't ye
ma, and tell us when ye come home,' sez he."

"Oh, the sweet prattle of childhood," said Mrs. Francis,
clasping her shapely white hands. "How very interesting
it must be to watch their young minds unfolding as the
flower! Is it nine little ones you have, Mrs. Watson?"