"Poor little cosset," grandma would say, pityingly. Then she would
give her a simball, and tell her she must "be a good girl, and not
mind if she couldn't play jest like the others, for she'd got to airn
her own livin', when she grew up, and she must learn to work."
Ann would go away comforted, but grandma would be privately
indignant. She was, as is apt to be the case, rather critical with
her sons' wives, and she thought "Sam'l's kept that poor little gal
too stiddy at work," and wished and wished she could shelter her
under her own grandmotherly wing, and feed her with simballs to her
heart's content. She was too wise to say anything to influence the
child against her mistress, however. She was always cautious about
that, even while pitying her. Once in a while she would speak her
mind to her son, but _he_ was easy enough--Ann would not have found
him a hard task-master.
Still, Ann did not have to work hard enough to hurt her. The worst
consequences were that such a rigid rein on such a frisky little colt
perhaps had more to do with her "cutting up," as her mistress phrased
it, than she dreamed of.
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