ARTHUR
5

My father owned a small farm, where he had been able with industry, to support himself and his family. She had many children, but some were disabled because of our mother's condition which was fatal to my brother except me. They died consecutively when they reached the age of nineteen or twenty and since I had not reached that age, I would probably be the same premature fate.

The constitution of my body was always weak and until my mother's death, I enjoyed unlimited pleasure. I cheerfully support the portion of my work, because the need is determined; but the interval is always available to me alone and in whatever way I think it is appropriate to use it, he said, my plan was encouraged and assisted. Pleasant mentions, a gentle tone, a caring presence when I was sick, respect for my opinions, and respect for my talents, formed the image I still retain from my mother. I had the levity and presumption of youth and now that he is gone, my regrets are awakened by a thousand memories of my treatment of him. I am indeed guilty of not committing any conspicuous acts of humiliation or rebellion. Perhaps his attitude was inexorably reckoned to instill into me a grumpy and refractory spirit. However, my mistake was immediately followed by repentance and amidst impatience and passion, a gentle look of humiliation from her was always enough to make me cry and make me obey her will. If the grief of his loss becomes atonement for the transgressions I committed during his lifetime, much redemption has been made.

My father was a man with a slender body, but was irritable and flexible. He is conscious and diligent because of habit. He was content to be guided by his wife's superior intelligence. Under this guidance he prospered; but, when it was withdrawn, his affairs immediately began to show signs of unskill and neglect. My understanding, perhaps, made me qualified to advise and help my father, but I was not at all familiar with the task of supervision. In addition, tenderness and fortitude were not passed down to me from my mother and this was an indispensable attribute in a boy who wanted to dictate his gray parents . Time, perhaps, may have bestowed dexterity upon me or prudence upon him, had the most unexpected event given a different direction to my view.

Betty is a wild girl from a pine forest. At the age of ten she became a maid in this city and after the end of her time, came to my father's neighborhood to find work. She was employed in our family as a milkman and market woman. Her face was rough, her body was sturdy, her mind was completely illiterate, and her morals were damaged to the point where a woman's superiority should have mainly consisted. He has abundant health and good humor, and is a fairly supportive friend in a hay field or in a barn.

On the death of my mother, she was elevated to a somewhat higher status. The same task falls upon him; but the time and manner of doing it, to some degree, depends upon his own choice. Cows and dairy products are still his territory; but in this case nothing bothers him or pretends to prescribe his actions. For his duties, he is qualified and as long as my father is happy with his management, I don't mind.

However, in the end, a visible change occurred in his attitude. A mock pretense of ridicule and awkward dignity began to be assumed. Greater attention is paid to nuanced clothing and more fashionable textures. I thought she was on the signs of a lover and comforted myself by explaining to her about her lover's qualifications. A person often becomes his guest, his attention does not seem desperate. Therefore, he was easily considered as that man. When designated the favorite, great resentment is expressed and vague insinuations are made that the goal is not that low. These disclaimers should become customary on such occasions and regard the continuation of his visit as sufficient denial of them.

I often talk about Betty, her newly acquired self-esteem and the possible causes of her behavior change to my father. When this theme began, a cold and cautious demeanor spread across his face. He tried with a single syllable to change the subject or make some excuses to leave me. This behavior, despite its shock, is never deeply reflected. My father was old, and the sad impression made upon him by the death of his wife, the interval of almost half a year seemed to hardly weaken. Betty has chosen her partner, and every day I look forward to receiving a call to the wedding.

One afternoon the girl dressed herself up and seemed to be preparing for some important ceremony. My father had directed me to prepare the horse. When I asked him where he was going, he answered me, in general, that he had business a few miles away. I offered to replace him, but he said it was impossible. I went on to ascertain this possibility when he left me to go to the fields where his workers were busy, directing me to inform him when the seats were ready, to make his place available, he said, while nothing, in facing the workers.

But before I called her from the field, I exchanged a few words with the milkmaid girl, who was sitting on the bench, with all hopes bright and adorned with the most striking fur . I judged her imaginary lover for her delay and vowed to hate them both for not making me the maid of the bride. He listened to me with an atmosphere where shame sometimes mixed with excitement and sometimes with hatred. I left it for a long time and returned home not until late at night. As soon as I entered, my father handed Betty over to me as his wife and wished I could accept her as a mother.