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Updated: June 15, 2025
I was rocking baby to sleep this afternoon when Christian Ann, who was spinning by the fire, told me of a quarrel between Aunt Bridget and Nessy MacLeod. Poor Aunt Bridget! What a pitiful end to all her scheming for Betsy Beauty, all her cruelties to my long-suffering mother, all her treatment of me to be turned out of doors by her own step-daughter!
"A fair hit, Nessy," and there was a laugh and flourish of the whip. I was trembling, and a dark cloud had drifted up with a bitter blast, and the first hailstones were falling. The door of the church was opened for a moment, showing bright light from within; the bells had ceased. "My dear Lucy," said Harold, "you had better go in here for shelter." "Not if you leave me!
"Mary O'Neill, you wilful, underhand little vixen, whatever are you doing with the milk?" Being in no mood for explanations I tried to push past, but Nessy prevented me. "No, indeed, you shan't go a step further. What will your Aunt Bridget say? Take the milk back, miss, this very minute."
Nessy MacLeod, called the young mistress, had become my father's secretary, and spent most of her time in his private room, a privilege which enlarged her pride without improving her manners.
Between my cousin and myself there were constant feuds, in which Nessy MacLeod never failed to take the side of Betsy Beauty, while my poor mother became a target for the shafts of Aunt Bridget, who said I was a wilful, wicked, underhand little vixen, and no wonder, seeing how disgracefully I was indulged, and how shockingly I was being brought up.
"Cousin Mary," said Nessy, "I know perfectly what your letter is, having opened and read it, and while I am as little as yourself in sympathy with what is going on here, I happen to know that your father has set his heart on this entertainment, and therefore I do not choose that it shall be put off."
More rarely it was from Aunt Bridget, who usually began by complaining of the ever-increasing cost of my convent clothes and ended with accounts of her daughter's last new costume and how well she looked in it. From Nessy MacLeod and my father I never heard at all, but Father Dan was my constant correspondent and he told me everything.
"There you are, then," cried my father, slapping me on the shoulder, and then, turning to Alma, he told her to set to work without a day's delay. "Let everything be done correct even if it costs me a bit of money." "Yes, sir." "A rael big thing, ma'am, such as nobody has ever seen before." "Yes indeed, sir." "Ask all the big people on the island Nessy MacLeod shall send you a list of them."
Being such a clever little woman I went artfully to work, speaking first about my father, my mother, my cousin, Nessy MacLeod, and even Aunt Bridget, with the intention of showing how rich I was in relations, so that he might see how poor he was himself.
If I'm to get better I must have rest. Nessy!" Nessy! My medicine! Nessy! Nessy! Where in the world has that girl gone to?"
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