And Arthur Parable was not seldom
at the bedside, for he was among our oldest friends and tolerable cheerful
along with John, because the sight of a sick person had a way to cheer him
and make him so bright as a bee. He'd be very interested to hear about my
husband's pangs and said it was wonderful what the human frame could
endure without going under. But a nice, thoughtful man who had seen pecks
of trouble himself and could spare a sigh for others. He'd often bring my
husband a pinch of tobacco, or an old illustrated newspaper; and he liked
to turn over the past, when his wife was alive and he'd many times been
within a touch of taking his own life.
Arthur was a handsome fellow, and might well have wed again, but no desire
in that direction overtook him, and when Dowager Lady Martin at Tudor
Manor took sick and had two nurses, his daughter Minnie, gived over her
work, which was lady's maid to the old lady, and come home to look after
her father. I'd say to Mr. Parable sometimes that, at his age and with his
personable appearance, he might try again in hope; but "No," he said.
"I've had my little lot and there's Minnie. My girl would never neighbour
with a step-mother and I don't want no more sour looks and high words in
my house."
"Girl" he called her, but in truth Minnie Parable was five-and-thirty and
far ways from being girlish in mind or body.
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