The Mind Creative
story of Croque-mitaine or Loup-garou, or both; or that Élodie
could fall asleep at all without being rocked and sung to.
"I tell you, Aunt Ruby," Mamzelle Aurélie informed her cook in
confidence; "me, I'd rather manage a dozen plantation' than fo'
chil'ren. It's terrasent! Bonté! don't talk to me about chil'ren!"
"'T ain' ispected sich as you would know airy thing 'bout 'em,
Mamzelle Aurélie. I see dat plainly yistiddy w'en I spy dat li'le chile
playin' wid yo' baskit o' keys. You don' know dat makes chillun
grow up hard-headed, to play wid keys? Des like it make 'em teeth
hard to look in a lookin'-glass. Them's the things you got to know
in the raisin' an' manigement o' chillun."
Mamzelle Aurélie certainly did
not pretend or aspire to such
subtle
and
far-reaching
knowledge on the subject as Aunt
Ruby possessed, who had "raised
five an' bared [buried] six" in her
day. She was glad enough to
learn a few little mother-tricks to
serve the moment's need.
Ti Nomme's sticky fingers
compelled her to unearth white
aprons that she had not worn for
years, and she had to accustom
herself to his moist kisses -- the
expressions of an affectionate
and exuberant nature. She got
down her sewing-basket, which
she seldom used, from the top
shelf of the armoire, and placed
it within the ready and easy reach which torn slips and buttonless
waists demanded. It took her some days to become accustomed
to the laughing, the crying, the chattering that echoed through
the house and around it all day long. And it was not the first or
the second night that she could sleep comfortably with little
Élodie's hot, plump body pressed close against her, and the little
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