Teresa hated cats, and we never dared bring one into the home, but now we saw a struggle going on within her, and finally she said, "Would you be happy if we took him home with us?"
"Oh, indeed, yes," said the poor dying woman, "but please don't take him yet. Leave him with me until the end. He has been my only comfort and the nights are so long."
Louisa, however, did not remain alone any longer, for Teresa and several kind neighbors took their turns night and day to care for the poor invalid. Teresa brought from home pillows and blankets, and had a good hot fire always going in the grate. Dr. Lebon was called immediately, but it was too late; he could only make her last hours more comfortable. A few days later she died in Teresa's arms. A beautiful smile on the yellow wrinkled face gave it a happy expression that had never been seen there before.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A TREASURE RESTORED
Our birthdays generally passed without celebration, either in the form of presents or parties, principally because my father disliked holiday festivities, as they seemed to bring back to him more bitterly the loss of her who could no longer share their joy with him. On New Year's Day, however, he always gave a little gift to each one of us. It was our custom to write him in turn "A Happy New Year" letter.
Louis would always come from school to visit us during his New Year's holidays, and we had quite a number of visitors who bored us dreadfully. For me it was a time of good resolutions, and I would go to Teresa and say invariably as I embraced her, "I wish you a very happy New Year, Teresa. Will you please forgive me for all the trouble I have caused you this past year? And this new year, I am going to be very good." Unfortunately Teresa never saw any change.
As Christmas-time drew near, Paula questioned me as to how we celebrated that day.
"We don't celebrate it," I said.
"Oh, Lisita, is that true? You do nothing special on that day?" questioned my poor cousin surprised.