"Well, there was no one to love this poor Harriet; she was not lovable."
"No, 'm, she was hateable!" remarked Dotty, anxious to say something; for if she held her peace, she was afraid her mother would think she was applying the story to herself.
"There was no one to love her; so a woman took her, and was paid for it by the town."
"Town? Town, mamma? A town is houses."
"She was paid for it by men in the town. I don't know whether this woman tried to teach Harriet in the right way or not. It may be she had so much to do that she thought it less trouble to punish her when she was naughty than to instruct her how to be good."
"O, yes; I s'pose she struck her with a stick," said Dotty, patting her forefingers together—"just this way."
"Harriet had the care of one of Mrs. Gray's children, a lively little boy about two years old."
"Was he cunning? As cunning as Katie Clifford? Did he say, 'If you love me, you give me hunnerd dollars; and I go buy me 'tick o' canny'?"
"Very likely he was quite as cunning as Katie. You would hardly think any one could get out of patience with such a little creature—would you, my daughter?"
"No, indeed!" cried Dotty, eagerly, and feeling that she was on safe ground, for she loved babies dearly, and was always patient with them.