She guessed
a reason for this poverty of Cassy Mavor, but it only made her lay a hand
on the little woman's shoulders and look into her eyes.
"Cassy," she said gently, "you was right to come here. There's trials
before you, but for the boy's sake you must bear them. Sophy, George's
mother, had to bear them, and Abel was fond of her, too, in his way. He's
stored up a lot of things to say, and he'll say them; but you'll keep the
boy in your mind, and be patient, won't you, Cassy? You got rights here,
and it's comfortable, and there's plenty, and the air will cure your lung
as it did before. It did all right before, didn't it?" She handed the
bowl of boneset tea. "Take it; it'll do you good, Cassy," she added.
Cassy said nothing in reply. She looked at the bed where her boy lay, she
looked at the angular face of the woman, with its brooding motherliness,
at the soft, grey hair, and, with a little gasp of feeling, she raised
the bowl to her lips and drank freely. Then, putting it down, she said:
"He doesn't mean to have us, Aunt Kate, but I'll try and keep my temper
down. Did he ever laugh in his life?"
"He laughs sometimes--kind o' laughs."
"I'll make him laugh real, if I can," Cassy rejoined.
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