promised us that if we were good and
saved up our money, we should have one next year; and Ethelbertha and I,
being simple-minded, inexperienced children, were content with the
promise, and had faith in its satisfactory fulfilment.
As soon as we reached home we informed Amenda of our plan. The moment
the girl opened the door, Ethelbertha burst out with:--"Oh! can you swim,
Amenda?"
"No, mum," answered Amenda, with entire absence of curiosity as to why
such a question had been addressed to her, "I never knew but one girl as
could, and she got drowned."
"Well, you'll have to make haste and learn, then," continued Ethelbertha,
"because you won't be able to walk out with your young man, you'll have
to swim out. We're not going to live in a house any more. We're going
to live on a boat in the middle of the river."
Ethelbertha's chief object in life at this period was to surprise and
shock Amenda, and her chief sorrow that she had never succeeded in doing
so. She had hoped great things from this announcement, but the girl
remained unmoved. "Oh, are you, mum," she replied; and went on to speak
of other matters.
I believe the result would have been the same if we had told her we were
going to live in a balloon.
I do not know how it was, I am sure. Amenda was always most respectful
in her manner. But she had a knack of making Ethelbertha and myself feel
that we were a couple of children, playing at being grown up and married,
and that she was humouring us.
Amenda stayed with us for nearly five years--until the milkman, having
saved up sufficient to buy a "walk" of his own, had become
practicable--but her attitude towards us never changed. Even when we
came to be really important married people, the proprietors of a
"family," it was evident that she merely considered we had gone a step
further in the game, and were playing now at being fathers and mothers.
By some subtle process she contrived to imbue the baby also with this
idea. The child never seemed to me to take either of us quite seriously.
She would play with us, or join with us in light conversation; but when
it came to the serious affairs of life, such as bathing or feeding, she
preferred her nurse.
Ethelbertha attempted to take her out in the perambulator one morning,
but the child would not hear of it for a moment.
"It's all right, baby dear," explained Ethelbertha soothingly. "Baby's
going out with mamma this morning."
"Oh no, baby
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