"Well, all this time Milly Baker's baby was growin' in grace, you
might say. And a finer child never was born. Milly had named him
Richard, and nature had wrote his father's name all over him. He was
the livin' image of Dick, all but the look in his eyes; that was
Milly's. Milly worshiped him, and there was few children raised any
carefuler and better than Milly Baker's boy; that was what we always
called him. Milly was nothin' but a child herself when he was born,
but all at once she appeared to turn to a woman; acted like one and
looked like one. It ain't time, honey, that makes people old; it's
experience. Some folks never git over bein' children, and some never
has any childhood; and pore little Milly's was cut short by trouble.
If she felt ashamed of herself or the child, nobody ever knew it. I
never could tell whether it was lack of sense, or whether she jest
looked at things different from the rest of us; but to see her walk in
church holding little Richard by the hand, nobody ever would 'a'
thought but what she was a lawful wife. No woman could 'a' behaved
better'n she did, I'm bound to say. She got better lookin' all the
time, but she was as steady and sober as if she'd been sixty years
old. Parson Page said once that Milly Baker had more dignity than any
woman, young or old, that he'd ever seen. It seems right queer to talk
about dignity in a pore gyirl who'd made the misstep she'd made, but I
reckon it was jest that that made us all come to treat her as if she
was as good as anybody. People can set their own price on 'emselves,
I've noticed; and if they keep it set, folks'll come up to it. Milly
didn't seem to think that she had done anything wrong; and when she
brought little Richard up for baptism there wasn't a dry eye in the
church; and when she joined the church herself there wasn't anybody
mean enough to say a word against it, not even Silas Petty.
"Squire Elrod give her the cottage rent free after her mother died,
and betwixt nursin' and doin' fine needlework she made a good livin'
for herself and the boy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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