Your husband says you are
perfectly devoted to them."
"As I suppose all mothers are," I replied, laughing.
"As to that," she returned, "people differ."
The children were brought down. She admired little Ernest, as
everybody does, but only glanced at the baby.
"What a sickly-looking little thing!" she said. "But this boy is a
splendid fellow! Ah, if mine had lived he would have been just such a
child! But some people have all the trouble and others all the
comfort. I am, sure I don't know what I have done that I should have
to lose my only boy, and have nothing left but girls. To be sure, I
can afford to dress them elegantly, and as soon as they get old
enough I mean to have them taught all sorts of accomplishments. You
can't imagine what a relief it is to have plenty of money!"
"Indeed I can't!" I said; "it is quite beyond the reach of my
imagination."
"My uncle--that is to say Charley's uncle-has just given me a
carriage and horses for my own use. In fact, he heaps everything upon
me. Where do you go to church?"
I told her, reminding her that Dr. Cabot was its pastor.
"Oh, I forgot! Poor Dr. Cabot! Is he as old-fashioned as ever?"
"I don't know what you mean," I cried. "He is as good as ever, if not
better. His health is very delicate, and that one thing seems to be a
blessing to him."
"A blessing! Why, Kate Mortimer! Kate Elliott, I mean.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240