another civilisation might have been. Nothing more distinctly marks
the rustic New England civilisation than the taming of its men to
the performance of certain domestic offices elsewhere held
dishonourably womanish. The boy learns not only to milk and to keep
the milk cans clean, but to churn, to wash dishes, and to cook.

"Come around here, then," said the attendant, and Lemuel promptly
obeyed.

"Well, now," said his mate, "that's right. I'd do it myself, if I
had the time." He pulled his soft wool hat out of his hip pocket.
"Well, good morning, pards. I don't know as I shall see you again
much before night." Lemuel was lifting a large tray, heavy with
empty broth-bowls. "What _time_ did you say it was, Jimmy?"

"Seven o'clock."

"Well, I just got time to get there," said the other, putting on his
hat, and pushing out of the door.

At the moment Lemuel was lifting his tray of empty broth-bowls, Mr.
Sewell was waking for the early quarter-to-eight breakfast, which he
thought it right to make--not perhaps as an example to his
parishioners, most of whom had the leisure to lie later, but as a
sacrifice, not too definite, to the lingering ideal of suffering. He
could not work before breakfast--his delicate digestion forbade
that--or he would have risen still earlier, and he employed the
twenty minutes he had between his bath and his breakfast in skimming
the morning paper.