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Updated: June 15, 2025
Some of his daughters certainly thrived on his homely prescriptions, but Hatty was the thorn in her father's side, the object of his secret anxiety and most tender care the sickly one of his domestic flock. Hatty would never do him credit, he would say sadly; no medical skill could put color into Hatty's pale cheeks, nor cure the aches and pains and nervous fancies that harassed her youth. As Dr.
"I don't know how you put up with her as you do," observed Christine, whose patience had been sorely exercised that morning by Hatty's tempers. "She is treating you as badly as possible. I would rather have been without her help, if I had been you; we might have had Miss Markham in for two days; that would have shamed Hatty nicely."
"She is ashamed of letting me know that she cannot bear me to go away," she thought. "She is trying to get the better of her selfishness, but it conquers her. I will leave her alone for a little, and then I will have it all out. I could not go away and leave her like that." For Bessie's warm, affectionate nature could not endure the thought of Hatty's pain.
Hatty's mamma smiled, and said, "There was a little girl just your size, in here about an hour ago, who 'didn't see the use of going to school, and wished she might never look into another book so long as she lived. Have you seen anything of her?" Hatty blushed and said, "Oh, Mamma, I never will be so foolish again. I see now how bad it is not to learn when one is a little girl."
From the first, Bessie had accepted the responsibility of Hatty. Hatty's peculiar temperament, her bad health and unequal spirits, had set her apart from the other members of the family, who were all strong and cheerful and full of life. Bessie had realized this and had made Hatty her special charge and duty; but now there was a gap in her daily life, a sense of emptiness and desolation.
Then Hatty's pert speeches she could not bear one bit. Grandmamma said it was perfectly dreadful, and that her great glazed red cheeks that is what she called them were insufferably vulgar; she wouldn't like anybody to hear that such a creature was her grand-daughter.
Hatty's little gowns, her few girlish possessions, were all locked away in the wardrobe; but her Bible and Prayer-book, and her shabby little writing-case, lay on the table. Bessie would pull up the blinds, and kneel down by the low bed; she liked to say her prayers in that room.
Recollections of the hours spent in Sheen Valley, the weird effect of the dusky figures passing and repassing in the dim, uncertain light, the faint streaks of light across the snow, the dull winter sky, the eager welcome of the lonely girl, the long friendly talk ripening into budding intimacy, all passed vividly before her, followed by Hatty's artless confession.
There was a great commotion then, four or five talking at once, making impossible recommendations, and getting in each other's way; but at the end of it all we got poor Hatty into bed in my chamber, and even Grandmamma said that rest was the best thing for her. My Aunt Dorothea mixed a cordial draught, which she gave her to take; and as Hatty's head sank on the pillow, she said to my surprise,
One Sunday afternoon when Bessie was stealing away for a quiet half hour in Hatty's room, she was surprised to find Christine following her. "May I come in too, Bessie?" she said very humbly, and her eyes were full of tears; "I do so want a little comfort, and I can't talk to mother. I am making myself miserable about Hatty." "About our dear Hatty!
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