She at first thought of calling her groom to make a fire; but reflected that would be a hazardous proceeding.

Molly perhaps, and most probably, would not allow it.

If she would allow _her_, it would be a great step gained.

Daisy's heart was so fall of compassion she could not but try.

There was a little bit of an iron stove in the room, and a tea-kettle, small to match, stood upon it; both cold of course.
"Where is there some wood, Molly ?" said Daisy over the stove;--"some wood and kindling?
I'll try if I can make the fire for you, if you will let me, please." "In there--" said the cripple pointing.
Daisy looked, and saw nothing but an inner door.