"Now, beggin' pardon for the liberty, I don't think Miss Katherine's had a square deal, or a fair show. She ain't had what's her rights, an' she knows it. You kep' her too close on—well, lots o' things. Love an' a free foot an', oh, lots o' things. She's lived so long, as you might say, from hand to mouth, that now she don't know which is her hand an' which is her mouth. An' that makes her look kinda awkward to you. What I'd rather my childern'd feel about me than anythin' else is, that I see their side an' try to treat'm white. All the cuddlin' an' the coddlin' in creation won't help you, if your child knows it ain't havin' justice. An' all the strictness an' the punishin' won't keep it straight, if it ain't sure there's love along with the lickin's.
"Miss Katherine's a good child. You couldn't go far wrong, if you took it for granted she was goin' to do the right thing, like you are yourself. If I was you, excuse me for sayin' it—if I was you, I'd kinda open up to Miss Katherine. She's young. With all she's so tall an' han'some-lookin', she ain't learned all the sense there is. She thinks, the same's the rest o' the kids, that the only reason she ain't got the world for the askin' is because her 'mean ol' fam'ly' don't want her to have no fun. Give her a chance. Show her you believe in her. You got to believe folks believe in you, to do your best. Now, take you, for instance. Your talkin' up so quick an' sharp as you do, makes most parties feel you're kinda hard to get along with. But my, I get along with you first-rate, because I ain't fooled by your outsides. I know your insides is all right, an' that's enough for me. But a young lady, like Miss Katherine, she wouldn't know. She's got to be showed, like Sam says they do in Missouri. But, you can take it from me, you wouldn't have to show her but once. There! I've talked a blue streak, an' prob'ly tired you all out. Only, you see, when you get me on childern, you got me on a subjec's my speciality, as you might say. That is, I try to make it my speciality, like Sam does cows an' pigs an' farm-produc's gener'ly, now he's got to deal with'm. Before I go, can't I get you somethin', or, maybe, see you safe in bed?"
"Bed?" echoed Madam Crewe sharply. "Why do you suggest bed to me? Do I strike you as belonging there?"
"Oh, no'm!" lied Martha calmly. "I wasn't thinkin' o' your comfort, so much as mine. It kinda's got to be a habit with me to want to tuck the little ones up an' cover'm over, 'n' know they're fixed for a good, sound sleep, before I leave'm."
Madam Crewe set her lips.
"Well, Slawson, it won't be long before you can do that for me. But not to-night. Go your way now. It's growing late. But come again soon. Very soon, you understand?"
"Yes'm."
On her way out, Martha stopped at the kitchen door.
"Say, Eunice," she accosted that placid young woman whom she found cozily toasting her toes before the grateful warmth of the range, "where's Miss Katherine?"
"I d'know."