In these latter years Ann Edwards regarded her son Jerome with pride and admiration, and yet with a measure of disapproval.

In spite of her fierce independence, a lifetime of poverty and struggle against the material odds of life had given a sordid taint to her character.
She would give to the utmost out of her penury, though more from pride than benevolence; but when it came to labor without hire, that she did not understand.
"I 'ain't got anything to say against your watchin' with sick folks, an' nursin' of 'em, if you've got the spare time an' strength," she said to Jerome; "but if you do doctorin' for nothin' nobody 'll think anything of it.

Folks 'll jest ride a free horse to death, an' talk about him all the time they're doin' of it.

You might just as well be paid for your work as folks that go ridin' round in sulkies chargin' a dollar a visit.

You want to get the mortgage paid up." "It is almost paid up now, you know, mother," Jerome replied.
"How ?" cried his mother, sharply.