Page 309 - The Story of My Lif

were blue, she asked, “Are they like wee skies?” A little while after I had told

her that a carnation that had been given her was red, she puckered up her mouth
and said, “Lips are like one pink.” I told her they were tulips; but of course she
didn’t understand the word-play. I can’t believe that the colour-impressions she
received during the year and a half she could see and hear are entirely lost.
Everything we have seen and heard is in the mind somewhere. It may be too
vague and confused to be recognizable, but it is there all the same, like the
landscape we lose in the deepening twilight.

February 10, 1888.

We got home last night. We had a splendid time in Memphis, but I didn’t rest
much. It was nothing but excitement from first to last—drives, luncheons,

receptions, and all that they involve when you have an eager, tireless child like
Helen on your hands.

She talked incessantly. I don’t know what I should have done, had some of the

young people not learned to talk with her. They relieved me as much as possible.
But even then I can never have a quiet half hour to myself. It is always: “Oh,
Miss Sullivan, please come and tell us what Helen means,” or “Miss Sullivan,
won’t you please explain this to Helen? We can’t make her understand.” I
believe half the white population of Memphis called on us. Helen was petted and
caressed enough to spoil an angel; but I do not think it is possible to spoil her,
she is too unconscious of herself, and too loving.

The stores in Memphis are very good, and I managed to spend all the money that
I had with me. One day Helen said, “I must buy Nancy a very pretty hat.” I said,
“Very well, we will go shopping this afternoon.” She had a silver dollar and a
dime. When we reached the shop, I asked her how much she would pay for
Nancy’s hat. She answered promptly, “I will pay ten cents.” “What will you do
with the dollar?” I asked. “I will buy some good candy to take to Tuscumbia,”
was her reply.