She told me that, after she went up to her room at night, and the boy was asleep.
She had took off her heavy mournin'-dress, covered with crape, and put on a pretty white loose dress; and she laid her head down in my lap, and I smoothed her shinin' hair, and says to her,—
“You are all tired out to-night, Cicely: you'll feel better in the mornin'.”
But she didn't: she was sick in bed the next day, and for two or three days.
And it was arranged, that, jest as quick as she got well enough to go, I was to go with her to see the executor, to see if we couldn't make him change his mind. It was only half a day's ride on the cars, and I'd go further to please her.
But she was sick for most a week. And the boy meant to be good. He wanted to be, and I know it.
But though he was such a sweet disposition, and easy to mind, he was dretful easy led away by temptation, and other boys.
Now, Cicely had told him that he must not go a fishin' in the creek back of the house, there was such deep places in it; and he must not go there till he got older.
And he would mean to mind, I would know it by his looks. He would look good and promise. But mebby in a hour's time little Let Peedick would stroll over here, and beset the boy to go; and the next thing she'd know, he would be down to the creek, fishin' with a bent pin.