"Don't you think you are a l-i-t-t-le hard on Rose?" asked Daffy, as
Dolly reseated herself behind the counter, after her nap.
"Hard on her? to feed her, and clothe her, and keep her out of the
alms-house," said Dolly. "Dreadful hard, that is."
"But you know you speak pretty sharp to her, and she does try to do
right, Dolly."
"So she ought," said Dolly, tartly.
"Yes--but you know some children would get clean discouraged, if they
were never praised."
"Let her get discouraged, then, I don't care, so long as she does what I
tell her."
"I am afraid it will spoil her temper, by and by, and make it hard for
you to get along with her."
"No fear of that," answered Dolly, glancing up at her small riding-whip.
"I have finished in the kitchen, Aunt Dolly," said Rose. "Shall I go
take my sewing?"
"Of course," said Dolly. "You might know that, without asking."
"Looking pale, is she?" said Dolly, turning to Daffy, "did you see what
a bright color she had when she came in, and how her eyes sparkled?"
"I never saw her look so before," replied Daffy; "I wonder what has come
over her."
"Nothing has come over her, except that it has done her good to work;"
said Dolly, "talk about my being 'hard on her,' indeed."
"Good morning, Dolly! A paper of No. nine needles, sharps, if you
please--have you heard the news?"
"No," exclaimed Dolly and Daffy in a breath.
"Well--Miss Pettingill was down to Miss Gill's to tea last night, and
Miss Gill was to work the day before at Deacon Grant's; and she said
Deacon Grant and Deacon Tufts were closeted in the back parlor all the
afternoon, and Miss Gill listened at the key-hole, and she heard them
say, that the minister ought to go off on a little journey with his
wife, because they were so low sperrited about the baby, and they are
going to raise the funds to send him to the springs or somewhere, I
don't know where. Miss Gill couldn't hear the whole of it, because she
was afraid of being caught listening."
"I can tell them they won't raise any funds out of me," said Dolly--"Do
I ever go to the springs? Do I ever get low-spirited? When minister's
folks want to go on a frolic they always get up some such nonsense, and
the parish has to pay the fiddler. It won't do," said Dolly. "I shan't
give the first red cent toward it. His wife is going too, I 'spose."
"Yes--both on 'em--they are both all down at the heel. I'm sorry for
'em."
"Well, I ain't," said Dolly--"babies is as plenty as blackberries, for
the matter of that; they may have a dozen more yet, and if they don't,
why then they will have more time to call on the parish, and make
sermons and things--it is ridikilis!"
Years rolled slowly away. Difftown, doomed to stereotyped dullness,
remained in _statu quo_. It had still its "trainings" on the green, its
cattle-fair Mondays, and its preceding Sabbaths in which herds of
cattle, driven into the village on that day to 'save time' (as if time
was ever saved or gained by breaking the fourth commandment), ran
bleating round the little church, and with the whoas of their drivers,
drowned the feeble Mr. Clifton's voice; feeble, though he still labored
on, for consumption lent its unnatural brightness to his eye, and burned
upon his hollow cheek;--the parsonage was doubly drear now, for the
gentle form which flitted around it, had lain down long since with "the
baby," and the broken band was destined soon to be complete.