" Lucy opened
her eyes, and her face sought an explanation.
"I never took any money for what I gave you, so how could I be a
servant? To see me a dangling of my heels in your hall so long, one
would say I was a servant; but I am not a servant, nor like to be,
please God, unless I should have the ill luck to bury my two boys, as
I have their father. So perhaps the best thing I can do, miss, is to
drop you my courtesy and walk back as I came." The Amazon's manner was
singularly independent and calm, but the tell-tale tears were in the
large gray honest eyes before she ended.
Lucy's natural penetration and habit of attending to faces rather than
words came to her aid. "Wait a minute, Mrs. Wilson," said she; "I
think there is some misunderstanding here. Perhaps the fault is mine.
And yet I remember more than one nursery-maid that was kind enough to
me; but I have heard nothing of them since."
"Their blood is not in your veins as mine is, unless the doctors have
lanced it out."
"I never was bled in my life, if you mean that, madam. But I must ask
you to explain how I can possibly have the--the advantage of
possessing _your_ blood in _my_ veins."
Mrs. Wilson eyed her keenly. "Perhaps I had better tell you the story
from first to last, young lady," said she quietly.
"If you please," said the courtier, mastering a sigh; for in Mrs.
Wilson there was much that promised fluency.
"Well, miss, when you came into the world, your mamma could not nurse
you.
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