It was a great wonder that the child was not utterly spoiled. But it
seemed that her nature reflected the love lavished on her as a mirror the
face that looks into it.
Aunt Betsy declared she did not have one selfish bone in her whole body.
I think the reason of that was, there were so many about her looking to
her for comfort in some way, that when little more than a baby in years
she fell into the habit of thinking of and caring for others almost as a
woman would.
Aunt Betsy was a rheumatic, and always ailing, and the child could not
remember the time when her beautiful, patient mamma was not very, very
sad. Although she smiled often on her little daughter, it seemed as if
there were tears right behind the smiles, just like rain-drops shining
through the rays of the sun. And when she crept close to her at night she
could feel the long lashes sweep her cheek, and they were so often wet.
The negroes on the place, especially the older ones, would grumble out
their aches and pains to the child, as if they thought she had the gift of
healing. And indeed she had, in her way.
For when old Squire split his foot open with an ax, they lived so far in
the country they couldn't get a physician every time it needed attention,
and her kind, brave mamma undertook to dress the wound herself every
morning.
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