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 rain to go down to the root of the flowers and nourish 'em.

"Why, if them posies ever lift their heads agin, which many of 'em won't, there will be on 'em the cuts and scars of the icy, drivin' hailstuns. If the sweet posies of Truth and Candor and Honesty hain't entirely cut down and pelted out of sight in Jack's poor little soul I'll be glad on't, but if they do live, Tamer Ann, there will be cuts and scars on 'em, and I'd advise you as a friend to turn short round and do different by him."

Sez Tamer, tosstin' her head, "I shall probable do as I like with my own child, he is mine."

Sez I, "Tamer Smith, there is where you make another mistake. He is not yours, as you may find out to your sorrow some day, he belongs to Another who let you take him for a spell, to train him up for higher service. He will claim him agin when He gits ready."

And, though I didn't say it outside of me, I said it inside, that I should be most glad if He would take him, much as I loved him. It would be such a comfort, I thought, to lay my head down at night on my goose-*feather pillow and think that dear little Jack wuz safe. Safe from the cruel blows that fell on him anywhere, hard blows that beat the little, tender body and soft, dimpled limbs, leavin' blue, livid marks where there should be nothin' but dimples. Safe from the deeper marks and scars that deface the eager, seekin' mind, the active, impressionable nature, the little white soul. But while I wuz so sorry for Jack that my heart most melted inside of me and the tears run down my face many a time faster than they did down Jack's when I would hear Tamer whippin' him, and he cryin'