Many is the weary evening that I have been occupied, past the noon of night, in repairing the wear and tear of habiliments--abridging the volume of the elder children"s clothes into narrow dimensions for the next, or compiling a suit for one, out of the fringed raiment of two or three. Honest was the pride with which I have surveyed these industrious efforts, and sincere the thought that I had really accomplished something. Depositing the various articles where the wearers elect would find them, I have retired to rest; almost angry with Mr. Smith, who was asleep hours before me--asleep as unconcernedly as if an indestructible substance fabric had been invented for children"s clothing.
Well, after such a night"s work, imagine me waking, with a complacent and happy sensation that, my work having been _done_ on the day before, the morning is open for new employment. Down stairs I come, full of the thoughts of the confusion I shall heap on Mr.
Smith"s head. He, observe, told me, as he left me to retire, that I had much better go to bed, for all my work would amount to nothing but loss of necessary rest. I am ready to show him triumphant evidence to the contrary, in the clothes, as good as new, in which his children are habited. Before I can speak, I discern a lurking smile in his face. My boy Will stands in a sheepish posture, with his back as close to the jam, as if he were a polypus growing there, and his life depended upon the adhesion.
My eldest girl--another of the laboriously fitted out of the night before, has a marvellous affection for the little stool, and the skirt of her frock seems drawn about her feet in a most unbecoming manner.
But the third, an inveterate little romp, unconscious of shame, is curveting about in the most abandoned manner, utterly indifferent to the fact she has--not, indeed, "a rag to her back"--for she is _all_ rags! One hour"s play before my descent has utterly abolished all traces of my industry, so far as she is concerned.
I expostulate--at first more in sorrow than in anger--but as Mr.
Smith"s face expands into a broad laugh, it becomes more anger than sorrow. The child on the stool looks as if she would laugh, if she _dared_. Lifting her up suddenly, I discover that the whole front breadth of her frock is burned--past redemption.
I say nothing--what _can_ I say? I have not words equal to the emergency. And the boy--boys _are_ such copies of their fathers! He actually forgets all embarra.s.sment, and breaks out into a hearty laugh. I jerk him forward.
Horror on horrors! The unveiling of the Bavarian statue, of which I read an account in the newspapers the other day, is nothing to it.
The jamb, it appears, has supported something besides the mantle shelf; for when I draw the young Smith forward, deprived of the friendly aid of the wall, his teguments drop to the floor, and _he_ stands unveiled! One fell swoop at rude play has destroyed all my little innumerable st.i.tches; and I am just where I was before I threaded a needle the night before!
Now I appeal to any body--any woman with the least experience, if this is not all _too bad_! And yet my husband insists that I have no need to be continually worrying myself with the needle. It _is_ true that each of the children has four or five changes of clothes, which they might wear--but what is the use of their having things to "put right on--and tear right out!" I like to be prudent and saving. It was only the other day that Mr. Smith came in early, and found me busy; and commenced a regular oration. He said that every child in the house has a better wardrobe than he; and so he went on, and counted all off to me. He says--and men think they know _so much_--that if children have clothes they should wear them; and when they are worn out, provide more, and not try to keep as many half-worn suits in repair, as there are new suits in a queen"s wardrobe. But he likes, as well as any man, to see his children look neat, whatever he may say. And yet he pretends that children should have clothes so made that they can convert themselves into horses, and treat each other to rides without rending to pieces! And he protests that it is all nonsense to undertake to keep children dressed in the fashion! Truly I am tempted to say to the men as Job did to his friends: "No doubt but ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you!"
Such plagues as they are sometimes! But I could not help laughing after all, when, as I said before, he was lecturing me. The table was covered with work, done and in progress. He went on till out of breath. I answered:
"Now you know the children have not a rag to their backs!"
"I should think not," he said, drily, as he looked about him. "The other morning finished up the rags on hand--but you are doing your best, with flimsy finery, to get up a new a.s.sortment."
"Now, that is unkind in you, Mr. Smith," said I, feeling hurt, and looking and speaking as I felt. "Really unkind in you. I"m sure it"s no pleasure for me to work, work, work, from morning till night, until I"m worn down and good for nothing. I wish my children to look decent at least; and to do this at as small cost to you as possible.
You can"t change me with wasting your property, at least."
"There, there, dear! That will do. Say no more about it," returned Mr. Smith, in a soothing voice. "I didn"t mean to be unkind. Still, I do think that you are a little over-particular about the children"s clothes, as I have said before--over-particular in the matter of having things _just so_. Better, a great deal, I think, spare a few hours from _extra work_ given to the clothing designed for their bodies, to that which is to array and beautify their minds."
"Now, Mr. Smith!" I exclaimed, and then bending my face into my hands, gave way to involuntary tears.
That he should have said this!
CHAPTER XV.
CURIOSITY.
THE curiosity of our s.e.x is proverbial. Proverbs are generally based upon experience, and this one, I am ready to admit, is not without a good foundation to rest upon.
Our s.e.x are curious; at least I am, and we are very apt to judge others by ourselves. I believe that I have never broken the seal nor peeped into a letter bearing the name of some other lady; but, then, I will own to having, on more occasions than one, felt an exceedingly strong desire to know the contents of certain epistles in the hands of certain of my friends.
The same feeling I have over and over again observed in my domestics, and, for this reason, have always been careful how I let my letters lie temptingly about. One chamber maid in my service, seemed to have a pa.s.sion for reading other people"s letters. More than once had I caught her rummaging in my drawers, or with some of my old letters in her hands; and I could not help remarking that most of the letters left at the door by the penny post, had, if they pa.s.sed to me through her, a crumpled appearance. I suspected the cause of this, but did not detect my lady, until she had been some months in my family.
One morning, after breakfast was over, and the children off to school, I drew on a cap, and went down to sweep out and dust the parlors. I had not been at work long, when I heard the bell ring.
Presently Mary came tripping down stairs. As she opened the street door, I heard her say:
"Ah! another letter? Who is it for? Me?"
"No, it is for Mrs. Smith," was answered, in the rougher voice of the Despatch Post-man.
"Oh." There was a perceptible disappointment in Mary"s tone. "What"s the postage?" she asked.
"Paid," said the man.
The door closed, and I heard the feet of Mary slowly moving along the pa.s.sage. Then the murmur of her voice reached my ears. Presently I heard her say:
"I wonder who it is from? Mrs. Smith gets a great many letters. No envelope, thank goodness! but a plain, good old fashioned letter. I must see who it is from."
By this time Mary had stepped within the back parlor. I stood, hid from her view, by one of the folding doors, which was closed, but within a few feet of her.
"From Mrs. Jackson! Hum--m. I wonder what she"s got to say?
Something about me, I"ll bet a dollar."
There was a very apparent change in the thermometer of Mary"s feelings at this last thought, as was evident from the tone of her voice.
"Lace collars--stockings--pocket han--. I can"t make out that word, but it is handkerchiefs, of course," thus Mary read and talked to herself. "Breastpin--this is too mean! It"s not true, neither. I"m a great mind to burn the letter. Mrs. Smith would never be the wiser.
I won"t give it to her now, at any rate. I"ll put it in my pocket, and just think about it."
The next sound that came to my ears was the pattering of Mary"s feet as she went hurrying up the stairs.
In a few minutes I followed. In one of my chambers I found Mary, and said to her:
"Didn"t the carrier leave me a letter just now?"
The girl hesitated a moment, and then answered:
"Oh, yes, ma"am. I have it here in my pocket."
And she drew forth the letter, crumbled, as was usually the case with all that pa.s.sed through her hands.
I took it, with some gravity of manner; for I felt, naturally enough, indignant. Mary flushed a little under the steady eye that I fixed upon her.
The letter, or note, was from my friend, Mrs. Jackman, and read as follows:
"MY DEAR MRS. SMITH.--Do call in and see me some time to-day. I have bought some of the cheapest laces, stockings, and cambric pocket handkerchiefs that ever were seen. There are more left; and at a great bargain. You must have some. And, by the way, bring with you that sweet breastpin I saw you wear at Mrs. May"s last Thursday evening. I want to examine it closely. I must have one just like it.
Do come round to-day; I"ve lots of things to say to you.
Yours, &c."
"Nothing so dreadful in all that," I said to myself, as I re-folded the letter. "My curious lady"s conscience must be a little active!
Let"s see what is to come of this."
It is hardly in the nature of woman to look very lovingly upon the servant whom she has discovered peeping into her letters. At least, it was not in my nature. I, therefore, treated Mary with becoming gravity, whenever we happened to meet. She, under the circ.u.mstances, was ill at ease; and rather shunned contact with me. The morning pa.s.sed away, and the afternoon waned until towards five o"clock, when the acc.u.mulating pressure on Mary"s feelings became so great that she was compelled to seek relief.
I was alone, sewing, when my chamber maid entered my room. The corners of her lips inclined considerably downward.