"Aunt Kesiah," said Gay, stopping beside her, "do you think any of us
understand Molly's character? Is she happy with us or not?"
It is a pleasant thing to be at the time of life, and in the possession
of the outward advantages, which compel other persons to stop in the
midst of their own interesting affairs and begin to inquire if they
understand one's character. As Kesiah lifted a caterpillar on a leaf,
and carefully laid it in the centre of the grassy walk, she thought
quite cheerfully that nobody had ever wondered about her character, and
that it must be rather nice to have some one do so.
"I don't know, Jonathan; you will tread on that caterpillar if you
aren't careful."
"Hang the caterpillar! I sometimes suspect that she isn't quite so happy
as she ought to be."
"She didn't get over Reuben's death easily, if that is what you mean."
"I don't know whether it is what I mean or not."
"Perhaps her development has surprised you, in a way. The first touch
of sorrow changed her from a child into a woman. No one ever realized, I
suppose, the strength that was in her all the time."
Turning away from her, he stared moodily at Uncle Boaz, who was trimming
the lawn beyond the miniature box hedges of the garden.
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