But always deep down in the child was an indefinable quality which puzzled her two aunts.
As Mary grew older, this quality became clearer.
"I know what it is," said Miss Cordelia one night.

"She has a mind of her own.

Everything she sees or hears: she tries to reason it out." I can't tell you why, but Miss Patty looked uneasy.
"Only this morning," continued Miss Cordelia, "I heard Ma'm Maynard telling her that there wasn't a prettier syringa bush anywhere than the one under her bedroom window.

Mary turned to her with those eyes of hers--you know the way she does--'Ma'm Maynard,' she said, 'have you seen all the other s'inga bushes in the world ?' And only yesterday I said to her, 'Mary, you shouldn't try to whistle.

It isn't nice.' She gave me that look--you know--and said, 'Then let us learn to whistle, Aunt T'delia, and help to make it nice.'" "Imagine you and I saying things like that when we were girls," said Miss Patty, still looking troubled.
"Yes, yes, I know.