her. As they sat on the ground under the tall pines, Mary said that fretting was worse than sickness to thin your blood and dry up your flesh. If she had missed and made a mistake one time, that was not so bad; everybody makes mistakes, that is no disgrace. Not a soul in the whole world but Maum Hannah knew that the nice little girl-baby was not Mary's own. It was a nice little child. Seraphine ought to be proud of it. It was a good child to have around, because it had never looked on its daddy's face. That very thing gave it the power to cure sickness, not only things like fevers and rheumatism and thrash in babies' mouths, but all kinds of bad ailments like swelling and breaking-outs on your skin.
Seraphine listened with a solemn face, tears began pouring out of her eyes, then she bent over and crumpled up no bigger than a little child. Mary put both arms around her and drew her up close.
"Now, honey, don' cry so hard. Si May-e loves you just de same as e ever did. Evybody loves you. Budda Ben's eyes ain' big enough to see you. Big Boy is most dead e loves you so much." Instead of helping, this kind of talk made Seraphine cry more. It was doing harm instead of good. So she tried different talk.
