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Updated: June 15, 2025
I'm hearin' of it ev'rywhere, now, since she was hurted," said Tom. "Well, she didn't tell Miss Polly," rejoined Nancy. "Miss Pollyanna told me long ago that she couldn't tell her, 'cause her aunt didn't like ter have her talk about her father; an' 'twas her father's game, an' she'd have ter talk about him if she did tell it. So she never told her." "Oh, I see, I see."
"Paddy," said I, "are you hurted? Where is it you're sore?" "Is it sore?" he groaned. "Except the soles of my feet, which they couldn't hit with me kickin' them, there isn't an inch of me that doesn't think it's worse hurted than the rest." "It's sorry I am to hear that," I replied, quite truthfully, "and you, Jem, how did you come off?"
I was hurted, too, for I thought I might perhaps sit on the little back-seat and hear more'n is good for me. People always say that little girls like me hear more'n is good for them. I love I love hearing things of that wicked sort. Well, you didn't go, and I couldn't have my nice drive on the little back-seat. But Aunt Sophy did give a pained sigh. She loves you, does Aunt Sophy.
We have our bit of turf, and our bit of sticks, and our bit to eat, and we have our health. Glory be to His Holy Name, not a one of the childer was ever a day ill, except one boy was hurted off a cart, and he never overed it. It's small right we have to complain at all. She died the following winter, and her son went to New York.
Then I told him all about it and begged him to let Aunt Prissy have the box of soap and think he sent it, so her feelings wouldn't get hurted.
Th' sthreet-car comp'nies is robbers, he says; 'but 'tis thrue they've built up th' city, he says, 'an th' money 'd come in handy, he says. 'No wan 'd be hurted, annyhow, he says; 'an', sure, it ain't a bribe f'r to take money f'r doin' something ye want to do, annyhow, he says. 'Five thousan' widdies an' orphans, he says; an' he wint to sleep.
They might git his little feelin's hurted, an' 't wouldn't do no good, though some few has been made to his face by one or two smarty, ill-raised boys. Well, sir, we give 'em a fine party, ef I do say it myself, an' they all had a good time. Wife she whipped up eggs an' sugar for a week befo'hand, an' we set the table out under the mulberries.
All at once she felt a horrid pain in her throat. . . . Miss Tod appeared, fresh from the joys of strong tea. 'Oh, lassie, ha'e ye hurted yersel'? Christina choked, recovered herself and cried: 'I've sold a blighter a sixpenny notebook for threepence, an' I'll never get over it as long as I live. B but I hope that'll no be long! Just then Heaven sent a customer.
However, when he stirred, it was not his mother but a rosy-faced Irish woman who stopped her sewing and asked him in a thick, sweet brogue if he needed anything. As he stared at her, recollecting but dimly having seen her glossy brown hair and fair, matronly face before, she exclaimed: "Ah, I'm Bridget McCartey, you know, an' you were hurted by the lads throwin' a baseball into your ribs.
You may be right, Shannon, about him having his uses in the future." "Say, Colonel, this here gray hoss, he’s got hisself all hurted bad. Can’t nohow go ’long with us. Want I should shoot ’im?" That whine came from the meadow where they had left the horses. "No, leave him. Won’t do Kirby any good and that’s a fine horse—might just see him again some day.
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