More, at Barley Wood. When they were about to leave, Mrs. M. stooped
to kiss the little boy, not as a mere compliment, as old maids usually
kiss children, but she took his smiling face between her two hands,
and looked upon it a moment as a mother would, then kissed it fondly
more than once. "Now when you are a man, my child, will you remember
me?" The little boy had just been eating some cake which she gave him,
and he, instead of giving her any answer, glanced his eyes on the
remnants of the cake which lay on the table. "Well," said Mrs. M.,
"you will remember the cake at Barley Wood, wont you?" "Yes," said the
boy, "It was nice cake, and you are _so kind_ that I will remember
both." "That is right," she replied, "I like to have the young
remember me for _being kin_--then you will remember old Mrs. Hannah
More?"
"Always, ma'am, I'll try to remember you always." "What a good child"
said she, after his mother was gone, "and of good stock; that child
will be as true as steel. It was so much more natural that the child
should remember the cake than an old woman, that I love his
sincerity.
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