with a cheerful face at any rate, to my unwelcome visitor, who proved
to be one of my aggravating poor folks-a great giant of a woman, in
perfect health, and with a husband to support her if he will. I told
her that I could do no more for her; she answered me rudely, and kept
urging her claims. I felt ruffled; why should my time be thus
frittered away, I asked myself. At last she went off, abusing me in a
way that chilled my heart. I could only beg God to forgive her, and
return to my work, which I had hardly resumed when Mrs. Embury sent
for a pattern I had promised to lend her. Off came my apron, and up
two pairs of stairs I ran; after a long search it came to light. Work
resumed; door-bell again. Aunty wanted the children to come to an
early dinner. Going to Aunty's is next to going to Paradise to them.
Every thing was now hurry and flurry; I tried to be patient; and not
to fret their temper by undue attention to nails, ears, and other
susceptible parts of the human frame, but after it was all over, and
I had kissed all the sweet, dear faces good-by, and returned to the
kitchen, I felt sure that I had not been the perfect mother I want to
be in all these little emergencies-yes, far from it. Bridget had let
the milk I was going to use boil over, and finally burn up. I was
annoyed and irritated, and already tired,. and did not see how I was
to get more, as Mary was cleaning the silver (to be sure, there is
not much of it), and had other extra Saturday work to do. I thought
Bridget might offer to run to the corner for it, though it isn't her
business, hut she is not obliging, and seemed as sulky as if I had
burned the milk, not she. "After all," I said to myself, "what does
it signify, if Ernest gets no dessert? It isn't good for him, and how
much precious time is wasted over just this one thing?" However, I
reflected, that arbitrarily refusing to indulge him in this respect
is not exactly my mission as his wife; he is perfectly well, and
likes his little luxuries as well as other people do. So I humbled my