"
"Did he never write to mamma?" asked the child, her cheeks burning.
"I berleeve he did, unct; sent her sum money or sumfin'. I heered Mis
Betsy say, 'Put it en bank fur your unborn'd chile,' en your mar sed, 'I
don' want it; I have enuff.'
"Tempers iz er mity bad thing, honey," continued Mam' Sarah. "Now, I don'
mean that nasty sperit that makes er dog snap hees teef at you, cors your
mar en par never had no temper lak dat, chile. Mo' lak spile chillen, that
dun had ther way so long they cuden' give in, speshly your par. If your
par haden' gorn so fur erway, your mar en him wud made up when you cum.
Chillens teeches fo'ks er heep. But you see, honey, they never had no
chance ter make up. My ole man en me haz menny ups en downs. Sumhow, when
he gits sick, or I haz ter do sumfin' fur him, I furgit erbout bein' mad
at him.
"Pear-lak, ter me, honey, en I've stidded on it er heep, the mo' you do
fur fo'ks the better you laks 'em. 'Twud bin the same with your mar en
your par, ef your par haden' gorn so fur away. When you marry, honey, you
marry one of the nabor boys."
"I never mean to marry anybody," said Roberta, getting down from Mam'
Sarah's lap, and shaking out the creases in her muslin dress.
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