In that minute, Fanny felt, with
mingled joy and self-reproach, what a daughter might be to her
father; and Polly, thinking of feeble, selfish Mrs. Shaw, asleep up
stairs, saw with sudden clearness what a wife should be to her
husband, a helpmeet, not a burden. Touched by these unusual
demonstrations, Maud crept quietly to her father's knee, and
whispered, with a great tear shining on her little pug nose, "Papa,
we don't mind it much, and I 'm going to help Fan keep house for
you; I 'd like to do it, truly."
Mr. Shaw's other arm went round the child, and for a minute no
one said anything, for Polly had slipped behind his chair, that
nothing should disturb the three, who were learning from
misfortune how much they loved one another. Presently Mr. Shaw
steadied himself and asked, "Where is my other daughter, where 's
my Polly?"
She was there at once; gave him one of the quiet kisses that had
more than usual tenderness in it, for she loved to hear him say "my
other daughter," and then she whispered, "Don't you want Tom,
too?"
"Of course I do; where is the poor fellow?"
"I 'll bring him;" and Polly departed with most obliging alacrity.
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