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The mothers you read about and the Holy Ones you saw in pictures were not quite real enough. What you needed was to have had one of your own. Then, Morry's eyes closed in a dizzy little vision of one of his own. One that would have dressed and undressed you instead of an Ellen, that would have moved your chair about and beaten up the cushions, one that maybe would have loved you, legs and all!
Pretty? When they were lean and sharp and shabby! When they kept switches on two nails behind the door, when they wore ugly clothes pinned together! But Jolly's eye caught the wistfulness on Morry's little, peaked, white face, and a lie was born within him at the sight. In a flash he understood things. Pity came to the front and braced itself stalwartly. "You bet they're pretty!"
With that wish, which was a very Big One indeed, came trooping back all Morry's Troubles. They stood round his easy-chair and pressed up close against him. He hugged the most intimate ones to his little, thin breast. It was getting twilight in the great, beautiful room, and twilight was trouble-time. Morry had found that out long ago.
He and the Troubles were not acquainted; they were never in the room at the same time. Morry's admiration of this small bepatched, befreckled, besmiled being had begun with his legs, which was not strange, they were such puffectly straight, limber, splendid legs and could go my! Legs like that were great!
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