“THE foolish thing!” said my Aunt Rachel, speaking warmly, “to get hurt at a mere word. It's a little hard that people can't open their lips but somebody is offended.”
“Words are things!” said I, smiling.
“Very light things! A person must be tender indeed, that is hurt by a word.”
“The very lightest thing may hurt, if it falls on a tender place.”
“I don't like people who have these tender places,” said Aunt Rachel. “I never get hurt at what is said to me. No—never! To be ever picking and mincing, and chopping off your words—to be afraid to say this or that—for fear somebody will be offended! I can't abide it.”
“People who have these tender places can't help it, I suppose. This being so, ought we not to regard their weakness?” said I. “Pain, either of body or mind, is hard to bear, and we should not inflict it causelessly.”
“People who are so wonderfully sensitive,” replied Aunt Rachel, growing warmer, “ought to shut themselves up at home, and not come among sensible, good-tempered persons. As far as I am concerned, I can tell them, one and all, that I am not going to pick out every hard word from a sentence as carefully as I would seeds from a raisin. Let them crack them with their teeth, if they are afraid to swallow them whole.”
Now, for all that Aunt Rachel went on after this strain, she was a kind, good soul, in the main, and, I could see, was sorry for having hurt the feelings of Mary Lane. But she didn't like to acknowledge that she was in the wrong; that would detract too much from the self-complacency with which she regarded herself. Knowing her character very well, I thought it best not to continue the little argument about the importance of words, and so changed the subject. But, every now and then, Aunt Rachel would return to it, each time softening a little towards Mary. At last she said,
“I'm sure it was a little thing. A very little thing. She might have known that nothing unkind was intended on my part.”
“There are some subjects, aunt,” I replied, “to which we cannot bear the slightest allusion. And a sudden reference to them is very apt to throw us off of our guard. What you said to Mary has, in all probability touched some weakness of character, or probed some wound that time has not been able to heal. I have always thought her a sensible, good-natured girl.”