I always liked Sarah Hood for coming and dressing me, though, because our Sally, who was big enough to have done it, was upstairs crying and wouldn't come down.

I liked Laddie too, because he was the only one of our family who went to my mother and kissed her, said he was glad, and offered to help her.

Maybe the reason he went was because he had an awful scare, but anyway he WENT, and that was enough for me.
You see it was this way: no one wanted me; as there had been eleven of us, every one felt that was enough.

May was six years old and in school, and my mother thought there never would be any more babies.
She had given away the cradle and divided the baby clothes among my big married sisters and brothers, and was having a fine time and enjoying herself the most she ever had in her life.

The land was paid for long ago; the house she had planned, builded as she wanted it; she had a big team of matched grays and a carriage with side lamps and patent leather trimmings; and sometimes there was money in the bank.