Morton's face, such quietly
expressed sympathy for my very evident confusion, that in a moment my
reserve broke down. I do not know what I said, but I believe I must have
been very eloquent. I could hear her say to herself, "How very
strange--what a misfortune!" when I frankly mentioned my inability to
spell, but I did not linger long on this point.
Warmed by her strong interest, I detailed boldly what I called my
theory. I told her of my love for little children, my longing to work
amongst them, how deeply I felt that this would indeed be a
gentlewoman's work, that I did not fear my want of experience. I told
her that once I had stayed for some weeks at the house of one of my
schoolfellows, and that every night and morning I had gone up to the
nursery to help the nurse wash and dress the babies, and that at the end
of a week I had learned to do it as well as the woman herself, and that
she had told my schoolfellow that she had never seen any young lady so
handy and patient with children, and that they were happier with me than
with their own sister.
"The second child had the croup one night," I continued; "the mother was
away, and nurse was too frightened to be of any use.
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