The character of Mary Adams was admittedly
a difficult one to explore; her mother, a cloud of nurses and a company
of governesses had been baffled completely by its dark caverns and
recesses. One clue, beyond question, was selfishness; but this quality,
by the very obviousness of it, may tempt us to believe that that is all.
It may account, when we are displeased, for so much. It accounted for a
great deal with Mary--but not all. She had, I believe, a quite genuine
affection for Barbara, nothing very disturbing, that could rival the
question as to whether she would receive a second helping of pudding or
no, or whether she looked better in blue or pink. Nevertheless, the
affection was there. During several months she considered Barbara more
than she had ever considered any one in her life before. At that first
tea party she was aware, perhaps, that Barbara's proffered devotion was
for complete and absolute self-sacrifice, something that her vanity
would not often find to feed it. There was, too, no question of
comparison between them.
Even when Barbara grew to be nine she would be a poor thing beside the
lusty self-confidence of Mary Adams--and this was quite as it should be.
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