“Doubtless.”

“Well, I call that taxing hospitality and good feeling a little too far.  I don’t want them here!  I’ve no room for them without inconvenience to ourselves.  Besides, my help is poor.”

But, all my feelings of repugnance were of no avail.  As I was sitting, on the next day, by a window, that overlooked the road, I saw the stage draw up, and issue therefrom Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones, servant and five children—­two of the latter twin-babies.  They had boxes, carpet bags, bundles, &c., indicating a prolonged sojourn, and one little boy dragged after him a pet dog, that came also to honor us with a visit.

Down to meet them at the door, with as good a grace as possible, I hurried.  Words of welcome and pleasure were on my tongue, though I am not sure that my face did not belie my utterance.  But, they were all too pleased to get into our snug country quarters, to perceive any drawback in their reception.

I will not describe my experience during the next three weeks—­for, Mr. Gray took the tour of the Lakes before returning, and was gone full three weeks, leaving his family to our care for the whole time.

“Heaven be praised, that is over!” was my exclamation, when I saw the stage move off that bore them from our door.

Frost at length came, and with it expired the visiting season.  We were still at a convenient distance from the city; but, our friends, all at once, seemed to have forgotten us.

“You are not going to move back, now,” said a friend in surprise, to whom I mentioned in the following March our intention to return to the city.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Just as spring is about opening?  Why, surely, after passing the dreary winter in the country, you will not come to the hot and dusty town to spend the summer?  You are at such a convenient distance too; and your friends can visit you so easily.”

Yes, the distance was convenient; and we had learned to appreciate that advantage.  But back to the city we removed; and, when next we venture to the country, will take good care to get beyond a convenient distance.

CHAPTER VII.

The picked-up dinner.

It was “washing day;” that day of all days in the week most dreaded by housekeepers.  We had a poor breakfast, of course.  Cook had to help with the washing, and, as washing was the important thing for the day, every thing else was doomed to suffer.  The wash kettle was to her of greater moment than the tea kettle or coffee pot; and the boiling of wash water first in consideration, compared with broiling the steak.

The breakfast bell rung nearly half an hour later than usual.  As I entered the dining room, I saw that nearly every thing was in disorder, and that the table was little over half set.  Scarcely had I taken my seat, ere the bell was in my hand.