Sunday evening Mrs. Minot sat by the fire , planning how she should tell some good news she had been saving up all day . Mrs. Pecq knew it , and seemed so delighted that she went about smiling as if she did not know what trouble meant , and could not do enough for the family . She was downstairs now , seeing that the clothes were properly prepared for the wash , so there was no one in the Bird Room but Mamma and the children . Frank was reading up all he could find about some Biblical hero mentioned in the day 's sermon ; Jill lay where she had lain for nearly four long months , and though her face was pale and thin with the confinement , there was an expression on it now sweeter even than health . Jack sat on the rug beside her , looking at a white carnation through the magnifying glass , while she was enjoying the perfume of a red one as she talked to him . `` If you look at the white petals you 'll see that they sparkle like marble , and go winding a long way down to the middle of the flower where it grows sort of rosy ; and in among the small , curly leaves , like fringed curtains , you can see the little green fairy sitting all alone . Your mother showed me that , and I think it is very pretty . I call it a ` fairy , ' but it is really where the seeds are hidden and the sweet smell comes from . '' Jill spoke softly lest she should disturb the others , and , as she turned to push up her pillow , she saw Mrs. Minot looking at her with a smile she did not understand . `` Did you speak , 'm ? '' she asked , smiling back again , without in the least knowing why . `` No , dear . I was listening and thinking what a pretty little story one could make out of your fairy living alone down there , and only known by her perfume . '' `` Tell it , Mamma . It is time for our story , and that would be a nice one , I guess , '' said Jack , who was as fond of stories as when he sat in his mother 's lap and chuckled over the hero of the beanstalk . `` We do n't have fairy tales on Sunday , you know , '' began Jill regretfully . `` Call it a parable , and have a moral to it , then it will be all right , '' put in Frank , as he shut his big book , having found what he wanted . `` I like stories about saints , and the good and wonderful things they did , '' said Jill , who enjoyed the wise and interesting bits Mrs. Minot often found for her in grown-up books , for Jill had thoughtful times , and asked questions which showed that she was growing fast in mind if not in body . `` This is a true story ; but I will disguise it a little , and call it ` The Miracle of Saint Lucy , ' '' began Mrs. Minot , seeing a way to tell her good news and amuse the children likewise . Frank retired to the easy-chair , that he might sleep if the tale should prove too childish for him .
Jill settled herself among her cushions , and Jack XXXXX flat upon the rug , with his feet up , so that he could admire his red slippers and rest his knee , which ached .
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