WHAT should we do in our house if it were not for our Aunt Matilda? She
is the first one out of bed in the morning, and the last one to go to
bed at night. She sees that things are right in the kitchen, and right
in the parlor.
Father wants his breakfast by half-past six o'clock this summer weather.
Aunt Matilda rises before five, and calls the girls, and sees that the
rooms are in order. Then she calls the children to be washed and
dressed.
Yes, that is a good likeness of her, as you see her combing my hair. She
is not young, you perceive, nor yet very old. Sometimes I get a little
impatient, and fidget, because she is so particular; but our quarrels
always end in my kissing her, and saying, "You are a darling Aunty,
after all."
Mother is an invalid: so she cannot do much house-work, or see to the
children. But Aunt Matilda is mother, aunt, and house-maid, all in one.
Sometimes she even acts as stable-boy, and harnesses the horse to the
carryall; for there are few things that Aunty does not know how to do,
and to do well.
Do we go to school? Yes, and no. Our only school is one that Aunt
Matilda keeps for us in the library. She teaches us to read, to write,
and to draw. She can play on the piano, and has begun to teach me music.
Oh! What _should_ we all do without Aunt Matilda?