"
With scrupulous care Kate watched over the child, always putting
her first, the house and land afterward. One day she looked up
the road and saw Henry Peters coming. She had been expecting
Nancy Ellen. She had finished bathing the baby and making her
especially attractive in a dainty lace ruffled dress with blue
ribbons and blue shoes that her sister had brought on her latest
trip. Little Poll was a wonderful picture, for her eyes were
always growing bigger, her cheeks pinker, her skin fairer, her
hair longer and more softly curling. At first thought Kate had
been inclined to snatch off the dress and change to one of the
cheap, ready-made ginghams Henry brought, but the baby was so
lovely as she was, she had not the heart to spoil the picture,
while Nancy Ellen might come any minute. So she began putting
things in place while Little Poll sat crowing and trying to pick
up a sunbeam that fell across her tray. Her father came to the
door and stood looking at her. Suddenly he dropped in a chair,
covered his face with his hands and began to cry, in deep,
shuddering sobs.
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