And who can look after a child like her mother?
I can tell you one thing, Master Stephen: your daughter Mary has more will of her own than the rest of your family all put together, including even your own good wife." "Prodigious!" cried the farmer, while he rubbed his hands and laughed--"prodigious, and a man might say impossible.

A young lass like Mary, such a coaxing little poppet, as tender as a lambkin, and as soft as wool!" "Flannel won't only run one way; no more won't Mary," said her mother.
"I know her better a long sight than you do; and I say if ever Mary sets her heart on any one, have him she will, be he cowboy, thief, or chimney-sweep.

So now you know what to expect, Master Anerley." Stephen Anerley never made light of his wife's opinions in those few cases wherein they differed from his own.

She agreed with him so generally that in common fairness he thought very highly of her wisdom, and the present subject was one upon which she had an especial right to be heard.
"Sophy," he said, as he set up his coat to be off to a cutting of clover on the hill--for no reaping would begin yet for another month--"the things you have said shall abide in my mind.

Only you be a-watching of the little wench.