On leaving her, after my first outbreak, I had of course returned to my pupils, associating the right remedy for my dismay with that sense of their charm which I had already found to be a thing I could positively cultivate and which had never failed me yet.
This seems to be a plan for manipulation, which is unfair to the students.
pressed again, of course, at this. “You reminded him that Quint was only a base menial?” “As you might say! And it was his answer, for one thing, that was bad.” “And for another thing?” I waited. “He repeated your words to Quint?” “No, not that. It’s just what he wouldn’t!” she could still impress upon me. “I was sure, at any rate,” she added, “that he didn’t. But he denied certain occasions.” “
This is a long encounter for characters we rarely see speaking throughout the story.
They had never, I think, wanted to do so many things for their poor protectress; I mean—though they got their lessons better and better, which was naturally what would please her most—in the way of diverting, entertaining, surprising her; reading her passages, telling her stories, acting her charades, pouncing out at her, in disguises, as animals and historical characters, and above all astonishing her by the “pieces” they had secretly got by heart and could interminably recite.
This is an interesting point in the story where we see the students almost competing for their teachers approval. It's almost like they forgot all the hardship she put them through.
waited and waited, and the days, as they elapsed, took something from my consternation. A very few of them, in fact, passing, in constant sight of my pupils,
It is interesting to see the word pupils used here, to me it is an old fashioned word.
I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, their creaking grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you put them on again, I’ll throw them into the fire.” I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well!
This is just ridiculous. She was a child. It was in the middle of winter and her slave master didn't have the decency to equip her with proper gear to do this hard work. She was punished for wearing new shoes that made noise which is just crazy! After all the work she did, her master should've bared the sound no matter how annoying it was.
He refused to eat, and when his head was held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a few minutes after.
This sounds like the food was poisoned.
They then have two holidays. Some masters give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until Christmas eve.
The more I read this story the more it upsets me. The slaves were given two "holidays", but only under the capacity of their masters. It's like they gave them an inch when they needed a mile. Like they can have a good time but not too much of a good time because at the end of the day they're still slaves. Its just disgusting.
She became an indispensable personage in the household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous of obtaining them
After all her hard work during the day she still desired to work more at night. This stood out to me because being a slave was very hard, and being valued based of your capabilities is just uncanny. Although she put money aside to save and purchase her children, her master still benefited the most from her late night baking. In the end she still wasn't able to purchase her family, which she created. Its just sad that the people who came from you weren't considered yours.
The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continued to keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but her children were divided among her master’s children.
Her story is so unfortunate, both of her chances to be free along with her family were snatched away in unfortunate events.