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Authors: Richard Hughes
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she couldnât help comparing Polly with Nellieâs Little Rachel. Polly was a nice little thing, but nothing to write home about.
Rachel was a year older than Polly, true; but anyway she was twice as clever, twice as pretty, twice as good. A little angel on earth. And what a Fancy! The things she said ! Nellieâs letters were always full of Rachelâs Sayings and her aunt used to read them aloud to Mr. Wantage: she couldnât help it.
Polly never said wonderful Sayings like that you could put in a book! Yet it was Polly who would grow up with all the advantages ... This made Mrs. Winter bitterly jealous at times: but she tried to curb her jealousy. It wasnât Pollyâs fault, being born with the silver spoon: there was no sense or fairness taking it out on her .
When Gwilym came back from the war his deacons kept their word: they wouldnât even see him. So he took on a tin mission church in Gloucester, down by the docks. But then their troubles began afresh. For now, six years after Rachelâs birth, Nellie was expecting again. She hadnât looked for it or intended it and somehow she sort of couldnât get used to the idea at all.
The fact was, by now Nellie had got so wrapped up in Little Rachel she just couldnât bear the thought of having another! She positively blamed the intruder in her womb for pretending to any place in the heart that by rights was wholly Rachelâs.
Moreover she had a good open reason too for thinking this child ought never to be born. Everyone knows that whatever doctors say the Consumption is hereditary, and six months ago Gwilym had started spitting blood.
Gwilym was away in a sanatorium now; so once more Nellie was left to face childbirth alone, but this time hating the baby to come and with a conviction it would be born infectedâif not a downright monster like the first.
Thus it was with rather a troubled face that Mrs. Winter opened the envelope and took out the carefully-written sheet of ruled paper. But the news on the whole was good. Gwilym had written to say he felt ever so much better, theyâd be bound to let him home soon. Nellie herself was in good health considering, though the birth might begin any hour now at the time of writing. No âSayings,â for once, of Little Rachelâs ... But of course! Rachel was away visiting with her Grandma. The doctor had insisted on hospital when Nellieâs time should comeâill though they could afford it; so the child had been sent off a week ago.
Mrs. Winter put the letter down and began to muse. She was troubledânot by the letter but in her own mind, at herself. Why had she allowed Little Rachel to be sent to a grandmother none too anxious to have her, instead of asking Mrs. Wadamy to let the child come here for a week or two? Mrs. Wadamy would have been willing, no doubt of it: quite apart from her natural kindness of heart sheâd have been glad of a nice little playmate for Polly. No, Mrs. Winterâs reluctance had come from somewhere in her own self.
âProper Pride,â she tried to tell herself: a not wanting to be âBeholden.â But she knew in her own heart that wasnât the real reason ... Mrs. Winter couldnât bear the thought of seeing those two children together , that was the fact! Miss Polly with all the world open to her: Rachel ... Rachel, probably working in a shop by fourteen years of age and her ankles swelling with the standing.
But once she had tracked down the reason in her own mind Mrs. Winter characteristically decided that it wasnât good enoughâsheer selfishness! It would be lovely for Rachel here, do her all the good in the world; and it would be good for lonely little Polly too, having a real child to play with instead of just dumb animals. The children themselves wouldnât worry about their unequal futures: theyâd be happy enough together, love each other kindly! At that age, Rachel the little
Rachel was a year older than Polly, true; but anyway she was twice as clever, twice as pretty, twice as good. A little angel on earth. And what a Fancy! The things she said ! Nellieâs letters were always full of Rachelâs Sayings and her aunt used to read them aloud to Mr. Wantage: she couldnât help it.
Polly never said wonderful Sayings like that you could put in a book! Yet it was Polly who would grow up with all the advantages ... This made Mrs. Winter bitterly jealous at times: but she tried to curb her jealousy. It wasnât Pollyâs fault, being born with the silver spoon: there was no sense or fairness taking it out on her .
When Gwilym came back from the war his deacons kept their word: they wouldnât even see him. So he took on a tin mission church in Gloucester, down by the docks. But then their troubles began afresh. For now, six years after Rachelâs birth, Nellie was expecting again. She hadnât looked for it or intended it and somehow she sort of couldnât get used to the idea at all.
The fact was, by now Nellie had got so wrapped up in Little Rachel she just couldnât bear the thought of having another! She positively blamed the intruder in her womb for pretending to any place in the heart that by rights was wholly Rachelâs.
Moreover she had a good open reason too for thinking this child ought never to be born. Everyone knows that whatever doctors say the Consumption is hereditary, and six months ago Gwilym had started spitting blood.
Gwilym was away in a sanatorium now; so once more Nellie was left to face childbirth alone, but this time hating the baby to come and with a conviction it would be born infectedâif not a downright monster like the first.
Thus it was with rather a troubled face that Mrs. Winter opened the envelope and took out the carefully-written sheet of ruled paper. But the news on the whole was good. Gwilym had written to say he felt ever so much better, theyâd be bound to let him home soon. Nellie herself was in good health considering, though the birth might begin any hour now at the time of writing. No âSayings,â for once, of Little Rachelâs ... But of course! Rachel was away visiting with her Grandma. The doctor had insisted on hospital when Nellieâs time should comeâill though they could afford it; so the child had been sent off a week ago.
Mrs. Winter put the letter down and began to muse. She was troubledânot by the letter but in her own mind, at herself. Why had she allowed Little Rachel to be sent to a grandmother none too anxious to have her, instead of asking Mrs. Wadamy to let the child come here for a week or two? Mrs. Wadamy would have been willing, no doubt of it: quite apart from her natural kindness of heart sheâd have been glad of a nice little playmate for Polly. No, Mrs. Winterâs reluctance had come from somewhere in her own self.
âProper Pride,â she tried to tell herself: a not wanting to be âBeholden.â But she knew in her own heart that wasnât the real reason ... Mrs. Winter couldnât bear the thought of seeing those two children together , that was the fact! Miss Polly with all the world open to her: Rachel ... Rachel, probably working in a shop by fourteen years of age and her ankles swelling with the standing.
But once she had tracked down the reason in her own mind Mrs. Winter characteristically decided that it wasnât good enoughâsheer selfishness! It would be lovely for Rachel here, do her all the good in the world; and it would be good for lonely little Polly too, having a real child to play with instead of just dumb animals. The children themselves wouldnât worry about their unequal futures: theyâd be happy enough together, love each other kindly! At that age, Rachel the little
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