One afternoon, when business was slow and there did not seem to be anything to preclude my staying at home and breathing the air that Dora breathed, I witnessed a painful scene between them. It was soon after Lucy returned from school. Her mother wanted her to go over her last reading-lesson with her, and the child would not do so, pleading a desire to call on Beckie
"Stay where you are and open your reader," Dora commanded
Lucy obeyed, whimperingly. "Read!" "I want to go to Beckie."
"Read, I say." And she slapped her hand
"Don't," I remonstrated. "Let the poor child go enjoy herself." But it only spoiled matters
"Read!" she went on, with grim composure, hitting her on the shoulder
"I don't want to! I want to go down-stairs," Lucy sobbed, defiantly
"Read!" And once more she hit her.
My heart went out to the child, but I dared not intercede again
Dora did not relent until Lucy yielded, sobbingly