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Updated: May 15, 2025
"There's no good to mortal creature i' the bones or blood of her!" sighed Miss Witherspin, as she put the tablecloth on the top of the breakfast-things. That blessed day the girl did arrive sprang into the house like a rather loud sunbeam loud for a sunbeam, not for a young woman of sixteen.
Her appearance was usually that of one with a headache; her expression this morning suggested a mild indeed but all-pervading toothache. "Is anything the matter, Miss Witherspin?" asked Hester. "Indeed, miss, there never come nothing to sister and me but it's matter, and now it's a sore matter. But it's the Lord's will and we can't help it; and what are we here for but to have patience?
Nor was Hester's own faith in God so vital yet as to propagate itself by division in the minds she came in contact with. She could only be sorry for them and kind to them. The morning after the visit to the aquarium, woeful Miss Witherspin, as Mark had epitheted her, entered to remove the ruins of breakfast with a more sad and injured expression of countenance than usual.
The sisters Witherspin had never yet suffered from the lack of a single necessary; not the less they frayed their mornings, wore out their afternoons, scorched their evenings, and consumed their nights, in scraping together provision for an old age they were destined never to see. They were a small meager pair, with hardly a smile between them. One waited and the other cooked.
But to be always at the heels of a young, sly puss after mischief it's more'n I'm equal to, I do assure you, Miss Raymount." "When did you see her last?" inquired Hester. "Not once have I set eyes on her since she was three years old!" answered Miss Witherspin, and her tone seemed to imply in the fact yet additional wrong. "Then perhaps she may be wiser by this time," Hester suggested.
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