Excerpt from John Sherwood, Ironmaster Once a month Uncle Dick drove to the city and left with Euphemia a cheque which with economy barely sufficed to keep the household. I am sure that they knew it had been and was, far too little, even with their present addition. Euphemia proudly and silently accepted it without thanks. I am sure that they regarded the narrowed life to which their disapproval and meanness condemned her as proper punishment for what they considered to have been both social and religious apostasy. I suspect that they gave little thought to me, their sister's child, and none as to how I might incidentally suffer from their punitive limitation of Euphemia's income. Long afterwards, as the years ran on, I Often wondered how my cousin regarded the unfriended waif left, as it were, on the doorstep of the small house in Pine Street. She was not fond of children. If to love them be an animal instinct, it is easily lost by some single women. I suspect that I was regarded by Euphemia at first with a certain dull dislike, then endured and at last loved, for really I must have been as I grew older an interesting little fellow. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.