She wouldn't any more than slap me; and sick as she was, I made up my mind not to get angry at her, or ever to tell, if she did.

I'd rather have her hit me when she was so sick than to have Sally beat me until she couldn't strike another lick, just because she was angry.

But I forgave her that, and I was never going to think of it again--only I did.
Mother kept sending Leon to the post-office, and she met him at the gate half the time herself and fairly snatched the letters from his hands.

Hum! She couldn't pull the wool over my eyes.

I knew she hoped somehow, some way, there would be a big fat one with Paget, Legal Adviser, or whatever a Chicago lawyer puts on his envelopes.