st on one side and then on the other. “It’s no mischief much while she’s a little un; but an over-‘cute woman’s no better nor a long-tailed sheep — she’ll fetch none the bigger price for that,Brandon Saad Tröjor.”
“Yes,Dale Hunter Tröjor, it is a mischief while she’s a little un,Matt Martin Tröjor, Mr. Tulliver, for it runs to naughtiness. How to keep her in a clean pinafore two hours together passes my cunning. An’ now you put me i’ mind,” continued Mrs. Tulliver, rising and going to the window, “I don’t know where she is now, an’ it’s pretty nigh tea-time. Ah,Dylan Larkin Tröjor, I thought so — wanderin’ up an’ down by the water, like a wild thing: She’ll tumble in some day.”
Mrs. Tulliver rapped the window sharply,Shane Doan Tröjor, beckoned, and shook her head — a process which she repeated more than once before she returned to her chair.
“You talk o’ ‘cuteness, Mr. Tulliver,” she observed as she sat down, “but I’m sure the child’s half an idiot i’ some things; for if I send her upstairs to fetch anything, she forgets what she’s gone for,Alexander Radulov Tröjor, an’ perhaps ‘ull sit down on the floor i’ the sunshine an’ plait her hair an’ sing to herself like a Bedlam creatur’, all the while I’m waiting for her downstairs. That niver run i’ my family, thank God! no more nor a brown skin as makes her look like a mulatter. I don’t like to fly i’ the face o’ Providence, but it seems hard as I should have but one gell, an’ her so comical.”
“Pooh,Matt Murray Tröjor, nonsense!” said Mr. Tulliver; “she’s a straight, black-eyed wench as anybody need wish to see. I don’t know i’ what she’s behind other folks’s children; and she can read almost as well as the parson.”
“But her hair won’t curl all I can do with it,Marcus Foligno Tröjor, and she’s so franzy about having it put i’ paper, and I’ve such work as never was to make her stand and have it pinched with th’ irons.”
“Cut it off — cut it off short,Dave Schultz Tröjor,” said the father, rashly.
“How can you talk so, Mr. Tulliver? She’s too big a gell — gone nine, and tall of her age — to have her hair cut short; an’ there’s her cousin Lucy’s got a row o’ curls round her head, an’ not a hair out o’ place. It seems hard as my sister Deane should have that pretty child; I’m sure Lucy takes more after me nor my own child does. Maggie, Maggie,” continued the mother,Jansen Harkins Tröjor, in a tone of half-coaxing fretfulness,Sami Vatanen Tröjor, as this small mistake of nature entered the room, “where’s the use o’ my telling you to keep away from the water? You’ll tumble in and be drownded some day, an’ then you’ll be sorry you didn’t do as mother told you.”
Maggie’s hair, as she threw off her bonnet,Jake DeBrusk Tröjor, painfully confirmed her mother’s accusation. Mrs. Tulliver, desiring her daughter to have a curled crop, “like other folks’s children,” had had it cut too short in front to be pushed behind the ears; and as it was usually straight an hour after it had been taken out of paper, Maggie was incessantly tossing her head to keep the dark, heavy locks out of her gleaming black eyes — an action which gave
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