From the porch of his cottage he had seen
Amy and the little girl approaching with their floral offerings. Nature's
smile that morning had softened his bitter mood, and, obeying an impulse
to look nearer upon two beings that belonged to another world than his,
he joined them, and asked:
"Won't you let me see your flowers before you take them into the church?"
"Certainly," said Amy, cordially; "but there are lovelier ones on the
pulpit; won't you come in and see them?"
He shook his head.
"What!" cried Johnnie, "not going to church to-day?" She had lost much of
her fear of him, for in his rambles he frequently met her and Alf, and
usually spoke to them. Moreover, she had repeatedly seen him at their
fireside, and he ever had a smile for her. The morbid are often fearless
with children, believing that, like the lower orders of life, they have
little power to observe that anything is amiss, and therefore are neither
apt to be repelled nor curious and suspicious. This in a sense is true,
and yet their instincts are keen. But Mr. Alvord was not selfish or
coarse; above all he was not harsh. To Johnnie he only seemed strange,
quiet, and unhappy, and she had often heard her mother say, "Poor Mr.
Alvord!" Therefore, when he said, "I don't go to church; if I had a
little girl like you to sit by me, I might feel differently," her heart
was touched, and she replied, impulsively: "I'll sit by you, Mr.
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