* * * * *
"Have you put up my dinner, Maude?"
John Melvin asked the question almost timidly. His daughter's face was
clouded, her lips were compressed, and she was making a great deal of
unnecessary noise as she moved about the kitchen. She did not reply at
once, and when she spoke it was in no pleasant voice.
"Yes, father, your dinner is ready. Now I must put up the children's
dinners, and there is the ironing to do, and I must do some cooking
also. This will be a busy day with me, but all my days seem to be busy.
Perhaps I do not understand how to keep ahead of the work. I have no
time for recreation; there seems to be nothing in life for me but
drudgery."
Mr. Melvin sighed heavily.
"I am sorry, Maude. If last season's crops had not failed, I should
have hired some stout woman to do the heavy work. It is too much for
you, a girl of nineteen, to have all these cares; but what can I do?"
"You can do nothing, father, and no one is to blame. I expect to be a
drudge. Amy," raising her voice, "where are you? Go and pick up the
breakfast dishes, and be quick about it. It isn't time to get ready for
school. Fred, what are you doing? Haven't I told you not to whistle in
the kitchen? Oh, dear! one needs more patience than any mortal ever
had!"
"I am sorry, Maude," said Mr. Melvin, again. "It was a sad day for us
all when your mother died."
And then the discouraged man, old and worn before his time, took his
dinner-pail and started for the distant wood-lot.
Maude continued to move rapidly about the kitchen and pantry, doing the
morning's work and scolding the children in a shrill voice.
"What's the use of being so cross, Maude?" asked Amy, a bright-eyed girl
of twelve. "I can't see that it does any good."
"I can't be so easy as you are, Amy. I wish things didn't fret me, but
they do. And you have an easy time, while I have to work like a slave."
"I'm sure I help you all I can, Maude. I don't suppose you want me to
stay out of school to work."
"You know I don't. You won't have time to do any more this morning.
Now, Fred, I told you to study hard to-day and not fail in your
lessons."
"All right sis," rejoined Fred carelessly.
"Fred, how many times have I told you not to call me 'Sis?' I am tired
beyond endurance. I don't want to hear another word from you this
morning, sir," she added as she saw the boy was about to speak.
As the children left the house, Fred looked significantly at his sister.
"Wasn't Maude cross this morning? How she did bang things!"
Amy puckered up her brow.
"I can't understand it, Fred. Maude is always scolding."
"Yes, and she belongs to the church. I'm glad I'm not a Christian, if
she's one."
"Oh, hush, Fred! Christian people are happier than we are."
"Humph! Maude professes to be a Christian, but she can't be happy. Seems
to me she's the unhappiest person I know. Papa doesn't belong to the
church, but he isn't always scolding."
"Well, I can't understand it," sighed Amy. "But, Fred, you know mama was
a Christian."
"She was a real Christian, too," said Fred soberly. "But I guess it's
hard work to be the real thing. Maude must be a make-believe one," he
added.
"Oh, hush, Fred! I don't like to hear you say such things."
Left alone, Maude's hands were busy. At dinner time she ate a lunch,
and at two o'clock was through her work.
"Everything's in order," she thought, as she looked about the neat
kitchen. "And I'm not going to touch a bit of sewing this afternoon.
I'll go into the sitting-room and rest until it's time to think about
supper."