"If she makes as much work after she comes as she has before, we might as well give up hope of ever gettin' any rest," sighed Miranda as she hung the dish towels on the barberry bushes at the side door.
"But we should have had to clean house, Rebecca or no Rebecca," urged Jane; "and I can't see why you 've scrubbed and washed and baked as you have for that one child, nor why you 've about bought out Watson's stock of dry goods."
"I know Aurelia if you don't," responded Miranda. "I 've seen her house, and I 've seen that batch o' children, wearin' one another's clothes and never carin' whether they had 'em on right sid' out or not; I know what they 've had to live and dress on, and so do you. That child will like as not come here with a passel o' things borrowed from the rest o' the family. She 'll have Hannah's shoes and John's undershirts and Mark's socks most likely. I suppose she never had a thimble on her finger in her life, but she 'll know the feelin' o' one before she 's ben here many days. I 've bought a piece of unbleached muslin and a piece o' brown gingham for her to make up; that 'll keep her busy. Of course she won't pick up anything after herself; she probably never see a duster, and she 'll be as hard to train into our ways as if she was a heathen."
"She 'll make a dif'rence," acknowledged Jane, "but she may turn out more biddable 'n we think."
