blowing, for an idealist to keep the lilies growing in the garden of the heart. It is not difficult to perceive why Mrs. Glover soon closed her infants’ school.
A very few months of living alone with her father and little son had passed when the talk of the family circle broached the idea of a new mistress for Mr. Baker’s house. Those who knew Mary Baker best at this time declare she was the soul of gentleness, patience, and humility. She had no resistance to offer to plans which were likely vitally to affect her. Passive and gentle, she heard the family planning and arranging. But suddenly she caught the trend of a new argument and then she did offer resistance. Mahala Sanborn, the spinster nurse, was to marry Russell Cheney of Groton, some thirty or forty miles away in the mountains. And Mahala, who was attached to little George, wanted to take the child with her to her new home.
“What, take my little son!” the mother cried. “Abigail, you wouldn’t think of it! Father, do you hear? Why, I couldn’t see him for months. It would break my heart. Indeed, indeed it would!”
Nevertheless, the child was let go. One has no doubt it was done for kindness, as the stern New Englander of those days understood kindness; no doubt it was believed to be necessary and right and just. The new mistress of the home was coming. Mary was to live with Abigail, at least for the present. Now little George was five and Abigail’s child was four. No doubt it was necessary to make due provision for every one’s peace and happiness, for every one’s but the weakest.
