Nurse Sarah shrugged her shoulders again. 
"Oh, la! child, what a little question-box you are, an' no mistake," she 
sighed. But she didn't look mad--not like the way she does when I ask 
why she can take her teeth out and most of her hair off and I can't; and 
things like that. (As if I didn't know! What does she take me for--a 
child?) She didn't even look displeased--Nurse Sarah loves to talk. (As 
if I didn't know that, too!) She just threw that quick look of hers over 
her shoulder and settled back contentedly in her chair. I knew then I 
should get the whole story. And I did. And I'm going to tell it here in 
her own words, just as well as I can remember it--bad grammar and all. 
So please remember that I am not making all those mistakes. It's Nurse 
Sarah. 
I guess, though, that I'd better put it into a new chapter. This one is 
yards long already. How do they tell when to begin and end chapters? 
I'm thinking it's going to be some job, writing this book--diary, I mean. 
But I shall love it, I know. And this is a real story--not like those 
made-up things I've always written for the girls at school. 
 
CHAPTER II 
NURSE SARAH'S STORY 
And this is Nurse Sarah's story. 
As I said, I'm going to tell it straight through as near as I can in her own 
words. And I can remember most of it, I think, for I paid very close 
attention. 
* * * * *
"Well, yes, Miss Mary Marie, things did begin to change right there an' 
then, an' so you could notice it. We saw it, though maybe your pa an' 
ma didn't, at the first. 
"You see, the first month after she came, it was vacation time, an' he 
could give her all the time she wanted. An' she wanted it all. An' she 
took it. An' he was just as glad to give it as she was to take it. An' so 
from mornin' till night they was together, traipsin' all over the house an' 
garden, an' trampin' off through the woods an' up on the mountain 
every other day with their lunch. 
"You see she was city-bred, an' not used to woods an' flowers growin' 
wild; an' she went crazy over them. He showed her the stars, too, 
through his telescope; but she hadn't a mite of use for them, an' let him 
see it good an' plain. She told him--I heard her with my own ears--that 
his eyes, when they laughed, was all the stars she wanted; an' that she'd 
had stars all her life for breakfast an' luncheon an' dinner, anyway, an' 
all the time between; an' she'd rather have somethin' else, 
now--somethin' alive, that she could love an' live with an' touch an' play 
with, like she could the flowers an' rocks an' grass an' trees. 
"Angry? Your pa? Not much he was! He just laughed an' caught her 
'round the waist an' kissed her, an' said she herself was the brightest star 
of all. Then they ran off hand in hand, like two kids. An' they was two 
kids, too. All through those first few weeks your pa was just a great big 
baby with a new plaything. Then when college began he turned all at 
once into a full-grown man. An' just naturally your ma didn't know 
what to make of it. 
"He couldn't explore the attic an' rig up in the old clothes there any 
more, nor romp through the garden, nor go lunchin' in the woods, nor 
none of the things she wanted him to do. He didn't have time. An' what 
made things worse, one of them comet-tails was comin' up in the sky, 
an' your pa didn't take no rest for watchin' for it, an' then studyin' of it 
when it got here. 
"An' your ma--poor little thing! I couldn't think of anything but a doll 
that was thrown in the corner because somebody'd got tired of her. She
was lonesome, an' no mistake. Anybody'd be sorry for her, to see her 
mopin' 'round the house, nothin' to do. Oh, she read, an' sewed with 
them bright-colored silks an' worsteds; but 'course there wasn't no real 
work for her to do. There was good help in the kitchen, an' I took what 
care of your grandma was needed; an' she always gave her orders 
through me, so I practically run the house, an' there wasn't anything 
there for her to do. 
"An' so your ma just had to mope it out alone. Oh, I don't mean your pa 
was unkind. He was always nice an' polite, when he was in the house, 
an' I'm sure he meant to treat    
    
		
	
	
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