“Dorrie is hungry,” she said, “and I think it would be well if you would arouse one of the maids and have something nice prepared for her.”
“I will; what shall it be?” said the man, springing nimbly to his feet, but scarcely able to credit his ears.
“A dropped egg and a slice of toast, with a glass of milk, will perhaps be forthcoming as quickly as any-thing—”
“Wait, Phil—don’t call anyone. I will get it,” interposed Mrs. Seabrook’s voice, just behind them. “Dorrie hungry!” she added, wonderingly. She had heard Mrs. Minturn’s request, and hurried out to convince herself that she was not dreaming.
“Yes, so she says,” said Mrs. Minturn, smiling serenely into the questioning eyes, “and when her breakfast is ready I think she will prove the truth of her words to you.”
Away sped the mother, marveling at what she had heard, but with a hymn of praise thrilling her heart; and, ten minutes later, as she moved lightly over the stairs again, she heard a sweet, though weak, voice saying:
“Listen, Mrs. Minturn!—just hear the birds sing!”
Phillip Stanley heard it also, as he sat in the hall, his head bowed upon his hands, while great tears rolled over his cheeks and dropped unheeded on the floor; and, as the feathered choristers without sweetly chirped their tuneful matins, his grateful heart responded with reverent joy—“Glory to God in the highest.”
As Mrs. Seabrook entered Dorrie’s room and saw the change in the loved face—still very thin and white, it is true, but with a look of peace on the brow, the eyes bright, the pale lips wreathed with smiles—her composure well-nigh forsook her.
“Mamma, hear the birds!—and it isn’t sunrise yet!” she said again, as her mother approached her.
“Yes, dear; but I hear what is far sweeter music to me,” the woman replied, making a huge effort at self-control. “So you are hungry, Dorrie!” she added, bending to kiss the lips uplifted to greet her.
“Yes, really and truly hungry, and so happy; for my cold and the pain are all gone. How kind of Mrs. Minturn to stay with me! Did you sleep, mamma?”
“Like a kitten, dear. I think we have a great deal to thank Mrs. Minturn for,” said Mrs. Seabrook, bending a grateful look upon her friend.
“That tastes good,” Dorrie observed, as she partook, with evident relish, of the delicately prepared egg, “and how nicely you do toast bread! It looks almost like gold.”
She was silent a moment, then resumed:
“Mamma, I wish you could have heard how beautifully Mrs. Minturn talked to me, last night, every time I awoke; and repeated such lovely things from the Bible. Of course, I have heard them before, but, somehow, they sound different as she says them.”
“And you begin to see that God never made or intended anyone to be sick or suffer; that it is your right to be well and strong. You will try to think of that often to-day, will you not, Dorothy?” said Mrs. Minturn, as she lifted the small hand near her, to find no fever but a gentle moisture in the palm, instead.