"They all treated me the same as if I was one o' their own—though my aunt 'eld it against me that my mother 'ad run away with a soldier before I was born—an' made me work, too, as soon as I was old enough to mind the baby an' 'elp in the kitchen an' sweep the floors. But it was Cousin William that made trouble, plaguin' me the way boys plague their sisters an' teasin' me about my red 'air. That 's the way it is with some boys, miss. Because they like you, they plague you an' drive you about. An' when you turn against them for it, they almost 'ate you—because they like you still, an' you don't like them."
The nurse nodded and smiled.
"At first, it was just that we went to school with 'Arry when 'e would come down the road from 'is father's farm. An' 'e 'd walk back with us when school was over, an' go berryin' with us, an' nuttin'—all children together an' no thought of 'arm—ridin' in the carts to th' 'ayfields or 'elpin' pile the peat when they cut it in the spring to dry. 'E was a strange lad. 'Arry, miss. 'E 'ated 'is books an' 'e would n't learn in them, because at nights 'e could n't sleep like the others that worked on the farm—an' tired themselves out—an' snored when 'e would be awake, starin' at the dark. But then 'e found picture books at 'ome an' began to be always readin' them an' bringin' them to read to us. An' 'is father would buy them in town when 'e went to market, an' put them under the pillow for 'Arry to find when 'e waked—'Robinson Crusoe,' I remember—for it was after 'e read us from 'Robinson
