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The Old Teapot. 79
“Many a time did she come out to me in the
kitchen and read a letter in secret. I understood
perfectly well that it was from the man she loved,
for she shed many and many a bitter tear. It really
cut me to the heart, I assure you, and I verily believe
it was out of sympathy with her woes that I had the
first hole burnt in my side. I should so have liked
to console the poor girl, but in those early days in
the lives of Miss Sarah and myself all my feelings
warmed in vain for her consolation. She could not,
for the very tears that dimmed her eyes, see how I
smiled and tried to look pleasant at her.
“When the old master-smith died his daughter
was already an old maid, and the orange-blossoms
of happiness could never be gathered for her, for
John was now married and had a happy young
family of three children. Certainly I saw her eyes
beam with joy when sometimes she would invite
John and his family to her house. But still a veil
of melancholy would dim her eyes when she treated
the little ones to buns and jam. There was some-
thing in her eyes that expressed the thought, ‘Why
am I not their mother?? And when afterwards she
and I were alone, she would weep and sigh piteously.
“Still for me was reserved the happiness of
bringing her comfort. As age crept on, she became
more disposed to listen to the song of comfort and
cheer I used to sing to her as I warmed up at
tea-time.
“Oh, what happy days were now in store for me!
If I was rather slighted in Miss Sarah’s young days,
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