I should like to earn some money."
Two days afterwards, Jeanne-Marie produced two strips of
cloth, such as are used for purposes of church decoration,
with patterns and materials for embroidery.
"Is that the sort of thing?" she said. "If you could do these,
you would get thirty francs for them, I daresay; I will see
that they are disposed of."
"I will try," said Madelon. "Jeanne-Marie, how good you are to
me!--whatever I want, you do for me!"
"That is nothing," said the woman, and went abruptly away to
attend to her customers.
So, all the long summer days, Madelon sat through hot
noontides in the shady garden below, through golden sunsets at
the open window of her room above, stitching with silks and
gold and silver thread, till her weak little fingers ached,
and the task seemed as if it would never be done. Down in the
homely neglected little garden, all a sweet tangle of flowers
and weeds, she would seat herself; the birds would twitter
overhead, the bees would come humming round her amongst the
unpruned vines and roses that clambered everywhere, while the
embroidery pattern slowly grew beneath her fingers.
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