"Young help," she said, "should sew evenings to make up for not turning off heavy work," that is, should make up in time for defect of force.
"I understood you hired for washing," said Lucy, the first time she saw preparation for those domestic orgies, that were said by a wit to have been instituted to celebrate Job's birthday—the day he cursed.
"Did I say so? Well, I meant I hired when I did not keep help; but I don't calculate to pay monthly wages, and six shillings a day for washing—six shillings is six shillings—you can't complain, child, for I take the brunt of it." Lucy did not complain; but, as she toiled through the too heavy burden imposed, she looked back with regret to Mrs. Ardley's "odds and ends," and even to the never-ending trifles of vexing Mrs. Broadson.
When the washing was ended, the accessories fell to Lucy's share—the starching, hanging out, bringing in, sprinkling, and folding. "The heft of the ironing I shall do myself," said Mrs. Simson; "you'll have nothing to do to-day, Lucy, but make the beds, and sweep down the chambers, and hang over the dinner, and smooth off the light things while the pot is boiling. Oh, don't forget, though, to rub over the knives, for he[1]is particular about clean knives."
Any further directions were interrupted by a call from the stairs. "Ma, ma'n't Lucy finish sweeping off the walk—I shan't be ready for dancing-school."
"Yes, Julius—run and do it, Lucy, quick—if
- ↑ We do not know why so many good wives designate their husbands by the pronouns he and him. It may be from a transmitted feeling of their supremacy.
