Tucker that deed to read? Looks like, even if it is some trouble, you
couldn't hardly begrudge Sweetbriar these April babies, Mis' Poteet,"
said Mrs. Plunkett in a consoling voice.
"Law, Mis' Plunkett, I don't mind it one bit. It ain't a mite of
trouble to me to have 'em," answered the mother of the seven hardily.
"You all are so kind to help me out all the time with everything.
Course we are poor, but Jim makes enough to feed us, and every single
child I've got is by fortune, just a hand-down size for somebody
else's children. Five of 'em just stair-steps into clothes of Mis'
Rucker's four, and Mis' Nickols saves me all of Bob's things to cut
down, so I never have a mite of worry over any of 'em."
"Yes, I reckon maybe the worry spread over seven don't have a chanct
to come to a head on any one of 'em," said Mrs. Plunkett thoughtfully,
and her shoulders began to stoop dejectedly as a perturbed expression
dawned into her gray eyes. "Better take him on home now, Mis' Poteet,
for sundown is house-time for babies in my opinion. Hand him over,
Rose Mary!"
Thus admonished, with a last, clinging embrace, Rose Mary delivered
young Tucker to his mother, who departed with him in the direction of
the Poteet cottage over beyond the milk-house.
"Is anything worrying you, Mrs. Plunkett? Can I help?" asked Rose Mary
as her neighbor lingered for a moment and glanced at her with wistful
eyes. Mrs. Plunkett was small, though round, with mournful big eyes
and clad at all times in the most decorous of widow's weeds, even if
they were of necessity of black calico on week days.
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