But mother was very proud, and said she never could have too much of me.
The worst of all to make me ashamed of bearing my head so high--a thing I saw no way to help, for I never could hang my chin down, and my back was like a gatepost whenever I tried to bend it--the worst of all was our little Eliza, who never could come to a size herself, though she had the wine from the Sacrament at Easter and Allhallowmas, only to be small and skinny, sharp, and clever crookedly.

Not that her body was out of the straight (being too small for that perhaps), but that her wit was full of corners, jagged, and strange, and uncomfortable.

You never could tell what she might say next; and I like not that kind of women.

Now God forgive me for talking so of my own father's daughter, and so much the more by reason that my father could not help it.

The right way is to face the matter, and then be sorry for every one.