"Ah, you've done so many kind things in your life, you don't
remember the little errand girl from Madame Tifany's who stole a
rose in your hall, and how you gave her rubber boots and cake and
flowers, and were so good to her she couldn't forget it if she lived
to be a hundred."

"But you are so changed," began Belle, who did faintly recollect
that little incident in her happy life.

"Yes, I had a fall and hurt myself so that I shall always be lame."

And Lizzie went on to tell how Madame had dismissed her in a rage;
how she lay ill till Mrs. Brown sent her to the hospital; and how
for a year she had suffered much alone, in that great house of pain,
before one of the kind visitors had befriended her.

While hearing the story of the five years, that had been so full of
pleasure, ease and love for herself, Belle forgot her errand, and,
sitting beside Lizzie, listened with pitying eyes to all she told of
her endeavors to support herself by the delicate handiwork she
loved.

"I'm very happy now," ended Lizzie, looking about the little bare
room with a face full of the sweetest content. "I get nearly work
enough to pay my way, and Estelle sends me some when she has more
than she can do. I've learned to do it nicely, and it is so pleasant
to sit here and make flowers instead of trudging about in the wet
with other people's hats. Though I do sometimes wish I was able to
trudge, one gets on so slowly with crutches."