She would let the deft little fingers squeeze a sponge full of
tepid water over the cut as many times as it was necessary, then hold the
scissors and bandages, and help in other ways. And old Squire said the
tender, compassionate little face "ho'ped 'im as much as Miss July did."
Those that need sympathy intuitively know where to get it. It's just like
the flowers reaching out for sun and dew.
I expect the city children who read this story feel very sorry for
Roberta because she lived in the country. But they needn't be, for she was
never lonely and scarcely ever idle. The older negroes on the place said
she was like "ole missus" (that was her grandmother) in her ways. And
among other things they told about the old lady, to show how stirring she
was and what a manager, was her method of arousing the household to their
duties in the beginning of the week: "Wake up! wake up! I say. To-day's
Monday, to-morrow's Tuesday, next day's Wednesday, next day's Thursday,
then comes Friday, and Saturday will be here before you know it, and
nothing done."
Roberta didn't belong to any "mite society" nor the "little busy bees,"
where city children are trained to think of and help the poor, and she
didn't wear the badge of the "Society for Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals," as many children do nowadays.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25