She seemed after that to think of
nothing but her new little baby; she had hardly appeared to remember
either her husband or her little daughter that lay dead in Brigham
churchyard--at least so aunt Fanny said, but she was a great talker, and
my mother was very silent by nature, and I think aunt Fanny may have been
mistaken in believing that my mother never thought of her husband and
child just because she never spoke about them. Aunt Fanny was older than
my mother, and had a way of treating her like a child; but, for all that,
she was a kind, warm-hearted creature, who thought more of her sister's
welfare than she did of her own and it was on her bit of money that they
principally lived, and on what the two could earn by working for the
great Glasgow sewing-merchants. But by-and-by my mother's eye-sight
began to fail. It was not that she was exactly blind, for she could see
well enough to guide herself about the house, and to do a good deal of
domestic work; but she could no longer do fine sewing and earn money.
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