Part 20 (2/2)
Mrs. Royden busied herself about the house, cleaning up, here and there, with her usual energy of action.
”Come, wife!” exclaimed her husband, who was shaving at the looking-gla.s.s in the kitchen, ”you had better leave off now, and get ready. We shall be late.”
”I can't bear to leave things all at loose ends,” replied Mrs. Royden.
”I shall have time enough to change my dress. Hepsy! If you let the boys get into the dirt with their clean clothes, you will deserve a good scolding.”
”Isn't Hepsy going to church?” asked Mr. Royden.
”No; she says she had just as lief stay at home; and somebody must take care of the baby, you know.”
”If Sam wasn't such a mischief-maker, we might leave the baby with him.”
”Dear me! I'd as soon think of leaving it with the cows! And, Hepsy, do you keep an eye on Samuel. Don't let him be cracking but'nuts all day.
Where's Lizzie? Is she getting ready?”
”I think she is,” replied Hepsy. ”She was tending the baby; but that is still now.”
”I can't conceive how we are all going to ride,” added Mrs. Royden. ”I don't know but I had better stay at home. The carriage will be crowded, and it seems as though I had everything to do.”
”There will be plenty of room in the carriage,” said her husband, taking the razor from his chin, and wiping it on a strip of newspaper. ”Father Brighthopes and I can take Lizzie on the front seat with us, and you and Sarah can hold the boys between you. Chester and James are going to walk.”
Mrs. Royden continued to work, until she had but a few minutes left in which to get ready. The second bell was ringing, and carriages were beginning to go by.
”Come, wife!” again her husband exclaimed; ”we shall be late. There go Mr. Eldridge's folks.”
”They are always early,” said she, impatiently. ”Do let me take my time!”
But Mr. Royden called her attention to the clock.
”Dear me! who would have thought it could be so late?” she cried. ”Where the morning has gone to I can't conceive. Hepsy, come and help me slip on my silk dress.”
”Willie wants to ride his stick,” said Hepsy; ”and it is all dirt.”
”Willie cannot ride his stick to-day!” exclaimed Mrs. Royden, sharply.
”Do you hear?”
Willie began to pout and mutter, ”I will, too! so there!” and kick the mop-board.
His mother's morning experience had not prepared her for the exercise of much patience. She rushed upon the little shaver, and boxed his ears violently.
”Do you tell me you will?” she cried. ”Take that!”
Willie blubbered with indignation, being too proud to cry outright, with his new clothes on.
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