Especially was she kind
to Hester, who as time passed on proved to be a puny, sickly thing,
never noticing anyone, but moaning frequently as if in pain. Very
tenderly old Hagar nursed her, carrying her often in her arms until
they ached from very weariness, while Madam Conway, who watched her
with a vigilant eye, complained that she neglected little Maggie.
"And what if I do?" returned Hagar somewhat bitterly. "Aint there a
vast difference between the two? S'pose Hester was your own flesh and
blood, would you think I could do too much for the poor thing?" And
she glanced compassionately at the poor wasted form which lay upon her
lap, gasping for breath, and presenting a striking contrast to little
Maggie, who in her cradle was crowing and laughing in childish glee at
the bright firelight which blazed upon the hearth.
Maggie was indeed a beautiful child. From her mother she had inherited
the boon of perfect health, and she throve well in spite of the bumped
heads and pinched fingers which frequently fell to her lot, when Hagar
was too busy with the feeble child to notice her. The plaything of the
whole house, she was greatly petted by the servants, who vied with
each other in tracing points of resemblance between her and the
Conways; while the grandmother prided herself particularly on the
arched eyebrows and finely cut upper lip, which she said were sure
marks of high blood, and never found in the lower ranks! With a
scornful expression on her face, old Hagar would listen to these
remarks, and then, when sure that no one heard her, she would mutter:
"Marks of blood! What nonsense! I'm almost glad I've solved the
riddle, and know 'taint blood that makes the difference.
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