No persuasion was needed to induce her to eat and I fully enjoyed the spectacle. The feast added much amiability to her versatile nature.
Finally she said: “Lord, I wisht the kid was here.”
“Who is the kid, tell me,” I said.
“Maybe I will, sometime, but tell me, what did you want of Mrs. Densmore?”
“I want you to tell me all about yourself.”
“And honor bright, now, it ain’t the kid ye want?”
“No, bless me, no; I don’t want anybody’s kid.”
“Well, you see, it was this way: I married young, married a man who was as handsome as he was mean. I was considered a beautiful girl and he thought he loved me, but he was so jealous that he was miserable. We lived happy for two years. I may as well say right here that I had a sister who was a beautiful blonde, and I being dark we were a great contrast. I loved my sister so devotedly that when we discovered that sooner or later I would become a mother we asked her to come and live with us. She had a friend who called frequently, a perfect gentleman, but my husband grew so jealous and finally became so enraged that he drove him from the house. Then my sister left. The rest of the time, up to the birth of my child, I spent in tears. I was almost killed to think my husband would be so brutal and so ill treat my dear sister.
“At last the little fairy came, and with her came more suffering and misery for me. My husband flew into a vicious rage, for my baby was a blonde, as perfect as an angel. My husband was neither light nor dark. My sister’s friend was light. My husband charged me with infidelity, disowned the child, and one day in a fit of anger, he threw her from me hurling her against a red hot stove. The burn caused a scar on her little back, which she carries to this day.”