CHAPTER V.

A FEW SHIRTS.

"You look tired, mother," said Meg, drawing forward the arm-chair the

first time her mother-in-law came to see her after her wedding-day.

"I am," answered Mrs. Seymour, sinking into the seat with a weary sigh.

"I was going to set out to call on you this morning, but, stupid-like, I

never asked Jem where you lived before he went to his work. So I

couldn't come."

"And Jem never told you where I lived?" asked Mrs. Seymour, astonished.

"I asked him," answered Meg, "and he smiled at me, and said he should

tell me nothing about it, but take me to see."

"Why, I live in the very same house, my dear."

Meg looked too surprised to speak. When at last she could find any

words, she said anxiously--

"How very unkind you must have thought me, mother, in not coming to see

after you. Times I have meant to ask Jem, but then he was out; and these

few days have passed so quickly, I have been so busy getting out all my

little treasures."

Mrs. Seymour looked round.

"Your things have made a lot o' difference, my dear. You have smartened

it up a deal."

"Oh, it did not want smartening up," said Meg; "but the young ladies at

the Hall did give me such pretty things. Look at this workbox, and this

tea-caddy, and that pretty vase. Those were the young ladies' gifts,

and those glass dishes from the other servants."

Mrs. Seymour said they were very kind, and then sat looking somewhat

abstractedly into the little fire.

"And he never told you what a job he had to get these rooms for you?"

she asked at last.

"No," said Meg; "did he have a job?"

"Oh, that he had. For the party that was in them didn't want to move

out. You must know, Meg, that I and Jem lived in two rooms in this house

ever since I buried his poor father. But when he got to earn enough, he

took the front room on this floor for himself, and used to come and have

his meals with me. I've lived in this house twenty years come

Michaelmas. I'm a laundress, you know, and wash for poor folks."

"A laundress!" exclaimed Meg, looking at her pale, thin face; "then

that's what makes you so tired?"

"No, my dear," briefly answered her mother, "not if I had got my usual

help. But she's took a day's holiday, as she does whenever it suits her,

and I and my work may go then, for aught she cares."

The old woman's face had begun to assume a hard look, but it was only

for a moment.

"Well, well," she said hastily, "it's not for me to be coming down hard

on others; I'm not so good myself to my Master. But there was a day,

Meg, when I couldn't have felt like that; and it ain't so long ago,

neither. It was my Jem as brought me the good news, and since I've been

forgiven myself, I'm learnin' to forgive. It makes all the difference."

"It does indeed," answered Meg gently, seating herself in a low chair

close to the old woman, and putting her hand in hers.

The caress was unexpected, and her mother looked down upon her with

quick watering eyes.

"I might help you to-day," said Meg, hesitating a little.

Not that she grudged offering her help, but she knew so little of her

mother-in-law's life. Should she have to go and wash and iron among a

lot of other women?

Mrs. Seymour paused a moment before answering, and then said

cheerfully--

"Well, my dear, if you would help me for an hour or so, till Jem comes

home to dinner, I should be very much obliged, and then we can ask him.

What worries me is, that I promised a man who is going away to get his

shirts done by one o'clock; but I was that beat, that I could not stand

another moment."

"I wish you had asked me," said Meg, looking grieved. "You must try to

think of me as a real daughter."

Mrs. Seymour was much touched, but it was not her way to show feeling,

and she only answered--

"Thank you, my dear. I shall take your kindness as it was meant; but if

you help me at any little pinch like this, you must not be hurt at my

giving you what I should have given Jenny."

Meg looked mystified, and then coloured painfully.

"Oh, I don't think I could," she began; but her mother-in-law stopped

her.

"Talk it over with Jem, my dear; this is a hard world, and if you could

put by a little for a rainy day you would not be sorry. I must pay some

one; why not you?"

"We will talk to Jem," said Meg, recovering herself, and speaking with

cheerful alacrity. "I am quite ready, mother; so if you are, we will

come and begin, because one o'clock will be soon here."

"They're all starched and damped down," said Mrs. Seymour, "and the

irons is heating beautiful."

They turned from the door, and Meg prepared to run down-stairs.

"Not there!" exclaimed Mrs. Seymour. "Why, Meg, I live at the top."

"Oh," said Meg, laughing, "you must scold Jem for not telling me."

"Yes, I live at the top," Mrs. Seymour went on as they reached the

landing, "because, you see, no one don't interfere with me up here. I

hang my things across here, or I hoist them along this pole out o'

window, and I can manage finely."

"Capital," said Meg heartily. "And have you both these rooms?"

"Yes, I rent both; but I have a lodger in one."

Meg made no answer, but followed Mrs. Seymour into the front room, where

hung numerous lines close to the ceiling, with clean clothes airing away

as fast as they could.

The fire was bright, and so were the irons; so were the tins on the

shelf, and one or two covers on the wall. In the middle of the room

stood a spotlessly white deal table, and across the window an

ironing-board covered with a blanket and cloth, all ready for use.

"What a nice room!" said Meg. "Shall I begin now, mother?"

Mrs. Seymour assented, standing by and watching critically, while Meg

looked round for the iron-holder, saw that the stand was ready, and bent

over the fire to lift off the iron. Her mother had placed a collar in

readiness for her to begin on, and waited while she dusted her iron and

put her first pressure upon it, after which she turned back to the

arm-chair and sat down with a satisfied sigh.

Meg's cheeks were hot under the gaze of those observant eyes, but she

went on without looking up till the collar was done and another spread

out. Then she said--

"What will be the next thing, mother?"

"You've learnt from a good ironer, my dear."

"Yes, that was mother," answered Meg brightly; "they used to say so at

the Hall."

"I don't doubt it. There are the shirts rolled up in that cloth. When

you've done one hang it here to air; I always air everything. Poor

people haven't fires, you know, and there's plenty of rheumatics caught

by damp clothes."

Meg ironed away, and the weary old woman caught herself dropping into a

doze. It was all very well being up early and late, and washing and

drying and folding, but worry quite knocked her up; and to know that she

had a certain time in which those shirts must be done, and being

deprived of her strong helper, she had felt as if her usual energy had

failed her.

A gentle voice roused her.

"They are finished, mother. Have you anything else you want done, or may

I go down and see if it is time for Jem?"

"To be sure," answered Mrs. Seymour, opening her eyes. "Have you done

a'ready? Thank you kindly, my dear."

Her quick glance scanned the shirts hanging neatly folded on the large

horse in front of the fire.

"Are they right?" asked Meg. "I had to guess a little, because I have

not ironed any of these sort of shirts ever."

"They will do quite well, thank you, my dear. I don't fold 'em just so,

but I don't see that it matters much for once. He won't know no

difference."

Just then a step was heard on the wooden stairs, and Meg started and

turned round.

"Is my little woman here?" asked a voice that made her heart bound.

"Just ain't she?" answered her mother-in-law with animation. "Here have

I been sleepin' like any top, and Meg's come and done my work for me."

Jem looked well pleased. He knew his upright old mother far too well to

fear that Meg would be called on too often to help.

"Oh, it's nothing," said Meg; "but now, Jem, you must come to dinner,

or you'll not be back in your hour."

They left the old woman, and as they went down, up came the man to fetch

his shirts.

"All right," said Mrs. Seymour, handing them to him; "and I've put on

the buttons. No thanks to Jenny, though, I can tell you. It's my new

daughter as has helped me."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Mother-Meg; or, The Story of Dickie's Attic · 第 5 / 20 章