It was "the widow's
mite;" and her face, wan, sad, sweet, yet loving and longing,
told the story. The two coin were going into the box with all
her heart.
"You know what it is?" said my hostess.
"I see, ma'am," I replied; "it is written under."
"That box is the Lord's treasury."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, — "I know."
"Do you remember how much that woman gave?"
"Two mites," — I said.
"It was something more than that," said my hostess. "It was
more than anybody else gave that day. Don't you recollect? It
was _all her living_."
I looked at Miss Cardigan, and she looked at me. Then my eyes
went back to the picture, and to the sad yet sweet and most
loving face of the poor woman there.
"Ma'am," said I, "do you think people that are _rich_ ought to
give all they have?"
"I only know, my Lord was pleased with her," said Miss
Cardigan softly; "and I always think I should like to have Him
pleased with me too."
I was silent, looking at the picture and thinking.
"You know what made that poor widow give her two mites?" Miss
Cardigan asked presently.
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