“Your nose is broke now, young lady.”
Delight put her little finger up to her nose and felt of it anxiously, and I wunk at Aunt Polly to say no more, for I knew what she meant—it wuz that this new babe of Thomas Jefferson’s would push little Delight out of my heart. But Aunt Polly is real kinder obstinate; I guess her sister-in-law is right when she sez, “No mule wuz ever more balky than Polly Worden.”
But then I realize that she is a old maiden and has had five disappointments and some say seven, and they have embittered her. She heeded not the wink I wunk at her and kep’ right on:
“The little new baby will take your place now in Grandma’s heart.”
Delight looked troubled, on her smooth little brow I could see fall the first faint shadow of that great, black shape that we call jealousy. Her sweet eyes looked as if they wuz cloudin’ up ready for tears. And I wunk severer and more voyalent winks at Aunt Polly; if ever a wink spoke them did, and said, “Stop immegiately.” But she kep’ right on (poor creeter! I spoze them disappintments wuz the cause on’t), and sez:
“You won’t be Grandma’s baby any more; she has got somebody else to love now.”
And then the cloud did burst into a rainfall of tears. Delight jest burst out a-cryin’ and snuggled down in my arms and laid her wet cheeks on my bosom through the power of old custom, and anon (how much like human creeters accordin’ to her size) she drew her head away agin as if sayin’, “I can’t lay my head there any more; if the love has gone out of the heart it won’t rest or comfort me any more to lay there.”
And pride woke up in her; she wuz too proud to make a fuss or beg for love (how much, how much like big children), so she set up kinder straight on my lap with her pretty lips quiverin’ and the tears runnin’ silent down her cheeks, and I riz right up with her and went out of the room.
Josiah wuz there, and I wouldn’t bring Miss Worden to terms before a male, owin’ to the five or seven things mentioned by me; but I felt that I must make it right with Delight that very minute. I knew how she felt, woonded pride and love and jealousy, a few hard syllables of the hardest lessons of life had come to Delight, and I must help her spell ’em, I must help her with her lesson.
So I took her into the parlor and sot down with her in the big chair and never said a word for a minute or two, only held her clost to me and kissed the shinin’ hair that lay up aginst my cheeks, she strugglin’ at first, Jealousy and Pride naggin’ her, and at first not bein’ able to hear any voices only jest them of J. and P. (jest like older children exactly). But, after a while, I held her so warm and clost, with my cheek layin’ on the pretty head, the stiddy firm clasp and contact sort o’ calmed her, and then anon she drew one little arm up around my neck, and anon the other one, and I looked down deep into her eyes, right into the little true soul, and that little true soul see the truth in mine. Words couldn’t have convinced Delight so well as that look she had learnt to depend on. Love has a language that, though mebby it can’t be exactly parsed and analyzed, yet it can be understood, entirely understood, and Delight see that I loved her. And then wuz the time the little creeter put up her lips and kissed me, and I sez sort o’ low but very tender: