Of course Grandma grew young again, and produced nursery
reminiscences on every occasion; Aunt Letty trotted day and night to
gratify the imaginary wants of the idol, and Christie was so
entirely absorbed that the whole South might have been swallowed up
by an earthquake without causing her as much consternation as the
appearance of a slight rash upon the baby.
No flower in David's garden throve like his little June rose, for no
wind was allowed to visit her too roughly; and when rain fell
without, she took her daily airing in the green-house, where from
her mother's arms she soon regarded the gay sight with such
sprightly satisfaction that she seemed a little flower herself
dancing on its stem.
She was named Ruth for grandma, but Christie always called her
"Little Heart's-ease," or "Pansy," and those who smiled at first at
the mother's fancy, came in time to see that there was an unusual
fitness in the name. All the bitterness seemed taken out of
Christie's sorrow by the soft magic of the child: there was so much
to live for now she spoke no more of dying; and, holding that little
hand in hers, it grew easier to go on along the way that led to
David.
A prouder mother never lived; and, as baby waxed in beauty and in
strength, Christie longed for all the world to see her.
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