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By miles of extra trudging in the heat, and miracles of bargaining with bewildered housewives, Natalya raised the four shillings, and the unconscious Daisy glided off in the happy, noisy train, while on the platform Natalya waved her coloured handkerchief wet with tears.

That first night without the little sunshiny presence was terrible for the old-clo’ woman. The last prop against decay and collapse seemed removed. But the next day a joyous postcard came from Daisy, which the greengrocer downstairs read to Natalya, and she was able to take up her sack again and go forth into the sweltering streets.

In the second week the child wrote a letter, saying that she had found a particular friend in an old lady, very kind and rich, who took her for drives in a chaise, and asked her many questions. This old lady seemed to have taken a fancy to her from the moment she saw her playing outside the cottage.

‘Perhaps God has sent her to look after the child when I am gone,’ thought Natalya, for the task of going down and up the stairs to get this letter read made her feel as if she would never go up and down them again.

Beaten at last, she took to her bed. Her next-room neighbour, the cobbler’s wife, tended her and sent for the ‘penny doctor.’ But she would not have word written to Daisy or her holiday cut short. On the day Daisy was to come back she insisted, despite all advice and warning, in being up and dressed. She sent everybody away, and lay on her bed till she heard Daisy’s footsteps, then she started to her feet, and drew herself up in pretentious good health. But the sound of other footsteps, and the entry of a spectacled, silver-haired old gentlewoman with the child, spoilt her intended hug. Daisy’s new friend had passed from her memory, and she stared pathetically at the strange lady and the sunburnt child.

‘Oh, grandmother, what great eyes you’ve got!’ And Daisy ran laughingly towards her.

The usual repartee was wanting.

‘And the room is not tidied up,’ Natalya said reproachfully, and began dusting a chair for the visitor. But the old lady waved it aside.

‘I have come to thank you for all you have done for my grandchild.’

‘Your grandchild?’ Natalya fell back on the bed.

‘Yes. I have had inquiries made–it is quite certain. Daisy was even called after me. I am glad of that, at least.’ Her voice faltered.

Natalya sat as bolt upright as years of bending under sacks would allow.

‘And you have come to take her from me!’ she shrieked.

Already Daisy’s new ruddiness seemed to her the sign of life that belonged elsewhere.

‘No, no, do not be alarmed. I have suffered enough from my selfishness. It was my bad temper drove my daughter from me.’ She bowed her silver head till her form seemed as bent as Natalya’s. ‘What can I do to repair–to atone? Will you not come and live with me in the country, and let me care for you? I am not rich, but I can offer you every comfort.’

Natalya shook her head. ‘I am a Jewess. I could not eat with you.’

‘That’s just what I told her, grandmother,’ added Daisy eagerly.

‘Then the child must remain with you at my expense,’ said the old lady.

‘But if she likes the country so—-‘ murmured Natalya.

‘I like you better, grandmother.’ And Daisy laid her ruddied cheek to the withered cheek, which grew wet with ecstasy.

‘She calls you “grandmother,” not me,’ said the old gentlewoman with a sob.

‘Yes, and I wished her mother dead. God forgive me!’

Natalya burst into a passion of tears and rocked to and fro, holding Daisy tightly to her faintly pulsing heart.

‘What did you say?’ Daisy’s grandmother flamed and blazed with her ancient anger. ‘You wished my Madge dead?’

Natalya nodded her head. Her arms unloosed their hold of Daisy. ‘Dead, dead, dead,’ she repeated in a strange, crooning voice. Gradually a vacant look crept over her face, and she fell back again on the bed. She looked suddenly very old, despite her glossy black wig.

‘She is ill!’ Daisy shrieked.

The cobbler’s wife ran in and helped to put her back between the sheets, and described volubly her obstinacy in leaving her bed. Natalya lived till near noon of the next day, and Daisy’s real grandmother was with her still at the end, side by side with the Jewish death-watcher.

About eleven in the morning Natalya said: ‘Light the candles, Daisy, the Sabbath is coming in.’ Daisy spread a white tablecloth on the old wooden table, placed the copper candlesticks upon it, drew it to the bedside, and lighted the candles. They burned with curious unreality in the full August sunshine.

A holy peace overspread the old-clo’ woman’s face. Her dried-up lips mumbled the Hebrew prayer, welcoming the Sabbath eve. Gradually they grew rigid in death.

‘Daisy,’ said her grandmother, ‘say the text I taught you.’

‘”Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,”‘ sobbed the child obediently, ‘”and I will give you rest.”‘