You beautiful creature! whose hands would not be honored to
handle such stuff as that?"
As she spoke, she took in her fingers a little stray drift from
the masses of golden twilight that crowned one of the loveliest
temples in which the Holy Ghost had not yet come to dwell.
"If cleaning your shoes be menial, brushing your hair must be
royal," she added.
Hesper's heart was touched; and if at the same time her
_self_ was flattered, the flattery was mingled with its best
antidote--love.
"Do you really mean," she said, "you would not mind doing such
things for me?--Of course I should not be exacting."
She laughed again, afraid of showing herself too much in earnest
before she was sure of Mary.
"You would not ask me to do anything _menial_?" said Mary,
archly.
"I dare not promise," said Hesper, in tone responsive. "How could
I help it, if I saw you longing to do what I was longing to have
you do?" she added, growing more and more natural.
"I would no more mind cleaning your boots than my own," said
Mary.
"But I should not like to clean my own boots," rejoined Hesper.
"No more should I, except it had to be done. Even then I would
much rather not," returned Mary, "for cleaning my own would not
interest me. To clean yours would. Still I would rather not, for
the time might be put to better use--except always it were
necessary, and then, of course, it couldn't.
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