Biddy sat quietly sewing, shedding no more tears, and while I looked at her and thought about it all, it occurred to me that perhaps I had not been sufficiently grateful to Biddy.

I might have been too reserved, and should have patronized her more (though I did not use that precise word in my meditations) with my confidence.
"Yes, Biddy," I observed, when I had done turning it over, "you were my first teacher, and that at a time when we little thought of ever being together like this, in this kitchen." "Ah, poor thing!" replied Biddy.

It was like her self-forgetfulness to transfer the remark to my sister, and to get up and be busy about her, making her more comfortable; "that's sadly true!" "Well!" said I, "we must talk together a little more, as we used to do.
And I must consult you a little more, as I used to do.

Let us have a quiet walk on the marshes next Sunday, Biddy, and a long chat." My sister was never left alone now; but Joe more than readily undertook the care of her on that Sunday afternoon, and Biddy and I went out together.

It was summer-time, and lovely weather.