After the morning work was
done,--the pans scalded and set in the sun; the house dusted from attic
to cellar; the vinegar reheated and poured over the walnuts that were
pickling; the apples drying on the shed roof, turned over; the piece of
muslin ("bolt," she called it) that was bleaching on the grass,
thoroughly sprinkled; and, in fact, everything, indoors and out, in Mrs.
Primkins' domain, put into perfect order, that lady sat down to
consider. She drew the letter from the bag, and read it over, carefully
inspecting a ten-dollar bill in her hands, and then leaned back, and
indulged herself in a very unusual, indeed totally unheard-of, luxury--a
rest of ten minutes with idle hands!
If Nimpo had chanced to come in, she would have been alarmed at such an
extraordinary state of things; but she was at that moment in her seat in
the long school-house, with wrinkled brow, wrestling with sundry
conundrums in her "Watts on the Mind," little suspecting how her fate
was hanging in the balance in Mrs. Primkins' kitchen at this moment. At
last, Mrs. Primkins' thin lips opened. She was alone in the house, and
she began to talk to herself:
"Wants her to have a birthday-party! Humph! I must say I can't see the
good of pampering children's folks do nowadays! When _I_ was young, now,
we had something to think of besides fine clothes, unwholesome food, and
worldly dissipation! I must say I think Mis' Rievor has some very
uncommon notions! Hows'ever," she went on, contemplating fondly the bill
she still held in her hand, "I do' know's I have any call to fret my
gizzard if she chooses to potter away her money! I don't see my way
clear to refuse altogether to do what she asks, 's long 's the child's
on my hands.
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