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Authors: Harriet Beecher Stowe

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BOOK: Harriet Beecher Stowe : Three Novels
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Page 1086
There was a silence. The large bright eyes grew round and reflective, as they peered out from between the sheets and the pillow. At last she said, in a modified voice: "Well, I won't hate her any more. But," she added, with increased vivacity, "I may think she's hateful, may n't I?"
Is there ever a hard question in morals that children do not drive straight at, in their wide-eyed questioning?
Miss Mehitable felt inclined to laugh, but said, gravely: "I would n't advise you to think evil about her. Perhaps she is a poor woman that never had any one to love her, or anything to love, and it has made her hard."
Tina looked at Miss Mehitable earnestly, as if she were pondering the remark. "She told me that she was put to work younger than I was," she said, "and kept at it all the time."
"And perhaps, if you had been kept at work all your life in that hard way, you would have grown up to be just like her."
"Well, then, I'm sorry for her," said Tina. "There's nobody loves her, that's a fact. Nobody can love her, unless it's God. He loves every one, Harry says."
"Well, good night, my darling," said Miss Mehitable, kissing her. "I shall come to bed pretty soon. I will leave you a candle," she added; "because this is a strange place."
"How good you are!" said Tina. "I used to be so afraid in the dark, at Miss Asphyxia's; and I was so wicked all day, that I was afraid of God too, at night. I used sometimes to think I heard something chewing under my bed; and I thought it was a wolf, and would eat me up."
"Poor little darling!" said Miss Mehitable. "Would you rather I sat by you till you went to sleep?"
"No, thank you; I don't like to trouble you," said the child.
"If you leave a candle I sha' n't be afraid. And, besides, I've said my prayers now. I did n't use to say them one bit at Miss Asphyxia's. She would tell me to say my prayers, and then bang the door so hard, and I would feel cross, and think I would n't. But I am better now, because you love me."
Miss Mehitable returned to the parlor, and sat down to ponder over her fire; and the result of her ponderings shall be given in a letter which she immediately began writing at the green-covered table.

 

Page 1087
XIX.
Miss Mehitable's Letter, and the Reply, Giving Further Hints of the Story
My dear brother:Since I wrote you last, so strange a change has taken place in my life that even now I walk about as in a dream, and hardly know myself. The events of a few hours have made everything in the world seem to me as different from what it ever seemed before as death is from life.
Not to keep you waiting, after so solemn a preface, I will announce to you first, briefly, what it is, and then, secondly, how it happened.
Well, then,
I have adopted a child,
in my dry and wilted old age. She is a beautiful and engaging little creature, full of life and spirits,full of warm affections,thrown an absolute waif and stray on the sands of life. Her mother was an unknown Englishwoman,probably some relict of the retired English army. She died in great destitution, in the neighboring town of Needmore, leaving on the world two singularly interesting children, a boy and a girl. They were, of course, taken in charge by the parish, and fell to the lot of old Crab Smith and his sister, Miss Asphyxia,just think of it! I think I need say no more than this about their lot.
In a short time they ran away from cruel treatment; lived in a desolate little housekeeping way in the old Dench house; till finally Sam Lawson, lounging about in his general and universal way, picked them up. He brought them, of course, where every wandering, distressed thing comes,to Deacon Badger's.
Now I suppose the Deacon is comfortably off in the world, as our New England farmers go, but his ability to maintain general charges of housekeeping for all mankind may seriously be doubted. Lois Badger, who does the work of Martha in that establishment, came over to me, yesterday afternoon, quite distressed in her mind about it. Lois is a worthy crea-
BOOK: Harriet Beecher Stowe : Three Novels
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