The cramps was as common to her,' said Mrs Wickam, 'as biles is to yourself, Miss Berry.' Miss Berry involuntarily wrinkled her nose.
'But Betsey Jane,' said Mrs Wickam, lowering her voice, and looking round the room, and towards Paul in bed, 'had been minded, in her cradle, by her departed mother.

I couldn't say how, nor I couldn't say when, nor I couldn't say whether the dear child knew it or not, but Betsey Jane had been watched by her mother, Miss Berry!' and Mrs Wickam, with a very white face, and with watery eyes, and with a tremulous voice, again looked fearfully round the room, and towards Paul in bed.
'Nonsense!' cried Miss Berry--somewhat resentful of the idea.
'You may say nonsense! I ain't offended, Miss.

I hope you may be able to think in your own conscience that it is nonsense; you'll find your spirits all the better for it in this--you'll excuse my being so free--in this burying-ground of a place; which is wearing of me down.
Master Paul's a little restless in his sleep.

Pat his back, if you please.' 'Of course you think,' said Berry, gently doing what she was asked, 'that he has been nursed by his mother, too ?' 'Betsey Jane,' returned Mrs Wickam in her most solemn tones, 'was put upon as that child has been put upon, and changed as that child has changed.

I have seen her sit, often and often, think, think, thinking, like him.