talked it over off and on ever since. We thought we d get a boy. Matthew
is getting up in years, you know--he s sixty--and he isn t so spry as he
once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate
hard it s got to be to get hired help. There s never anybody to be had
but those stupid, half-grown little French boys; and as soon as you do
get one broke into your ways and taught something he s up and off to the
lobster canneries or the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a
Home boy. But I said no flat to that. They may be all right--I m not
saying they re not--but no London street Arabs for me, I said. Give
me a native born at least. There ll be a risk, no matter who we get. But
I ll feel easier in my mind and sleep sounder at nights if we get a born
Canadian. So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out
one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she
was going, so we sent her word by Richard Spencer s folks at Carmody
to bring us a smart, likely boy of about ten or eleven. We decided that
would be the best age--old enough to be of some use in doing chores
right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him
a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs. Alexander Spencer
today--the mail-man brought it from the station--saying they were coming
on the five-thirty train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to
meet him. Mrs. Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to
White Sands station herself.
Mrs. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to
speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece
of news.
Well, Marilla, I ll just tell you plain that I think you re doing a
mighty foolish thing--a risky thing, that s what. You don t know what
you re getting. You re bringing a strange child into your house and home
and you don t know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is
like nor what sort of parents he had nor how he s likely to turn out.
Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up
west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to
the house at night--set it _on purpose_, Marilla--and nearly burnt them to
a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used
to suck the eggs--they couldn t break him of it. If you had asked my
advice in the matter--which you didn t do, Marilla--I d have said for
mercy s sake not to think of such a thing, that s what.
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