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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

'Well, then,' I said, 'if you say so, mother, I
suppose I didn't ought to gainsay you, on the Lord His day.' For you
see my mother was one that chose her time for speaking--eh! but she
was wise. 'Mother,' says I, 'to oblige you, so be it'; and with that I
fell to crying sore on my mother's neck, and she wasn't long behind
me, you may be sure. Whiles we sat a crying in one another's arms, in
comes John, and goes to speak a word of comfort. 'It is not that,'
says my mother; 'she have given her consent to nurse Mrs. Fountain's
little girl.' 'It is much to her credit,' says he: says he, 'I will
take her up to the house myself.' 'What for?' says I; 'them that
grants the favor has no call to run after them that asks it.' You see,
Miss Lucy, that was my ignorance; we were small farmers, too
independent to be fawning, and not high enough to weed ourselves of
upishness. Your mamma, she was a real lady, so she had no need to
trouble about her dignity; she thought only of her child; and she
didn't send the child, but she came with it herself. Well, she came
into our kitchen, and made her obeisance, and we to her, and mother
dusted her a seat. She was pale-like, and a mother's care was in her
face, and that went to my heart. 'This is very, very kind of you, Mrs.
Wilson,' said she. Those were her words. 'Mayhap it is,' says I; and
my heart felt like lead. Mother made a sign to your mamma that she
should not hurry me. I saw the signal, for I was as quick as she was;
but I never let on I saw it.


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