“She has really no one else to live with,” Mrs. Redmond had said once or twice to people who had suggested that the care of an invalid was too great for the mother and daughter to bear without aid. “She has really no one else to live with, and it would be very hard for one who has seen better days to live in an institution.”
“Sometimes I wish that she had never seen better days, she has so much to say about them. But that would n’t be so bad if she would n’t try to interfere with me. Really, it seems sometimes as if she thought that this was her house, and we only boarders.”
“Remember, my dear, that she is an old woman,” Mrs. Redmond had replied, “and that it is very hard to be old and sick and poor.”
“I know that it ’s hard to be poor,” Amy had answered, “but—”
“But then be thankful that you are not old and sick, too, and be considerate for those who are.”
It was no wonder that the three girls, after their visit to Amy, said that they thought that Mrs. Redmond had a face that seemed “full of goodness.” This was Nora’s rather quaint wording, and the others agreed with her, while Julia added, “You might not call her beautiful, Aunt Anna, and yet it seemed to me that a very beautiful disposition showed in every line of her face.”
“And she must be very talented, too; her pictures were lovely,” added Brenda.
“Amy Redmond?” queried Mr. Elston, who happened to be dining with the Barlows that evening, “is that
