“It happened a number a years ago and ain’t much of a story any way.  But you’re welcome to it, as some of it is rather humorsome, the laugh may do you good ef the story don’t.  We was livin’ down to the east’ard at the time.  It was a real pretty place; the house stood under a couple of maples and a gret brook come foamin’ down the rayvine and away through the medders to the river.  Dear sakes, seems as ef I see it now, jest as I used to settin’ on the doorsteps with the lay-locks all in blow, the squirrels jabberin’ on the wall, and the saw-mill screekin’ way off by the dam.”

Pausing a moment, Mrs. Wilkins looked musingly at the steam of the tea-kettle, as if through its silvery haze she saw her early home again.  Wash promptly roused her from this reverie by tumbling off the boiler with a crash.  His mother picked him up and placidly went on, falling more and more into the country dialect which city life had not yet polished.

“I oushter hev been the contentedest woman alive, but I warn’t, for you see I’d worked at millineryin’ before I was married, and had an easy time on’t, Afterwards the children come along pretty fast, there was sights of work to do, and no time for pleasuring so I got wore out, and used to hanker after old times in a dreadful wicked way.

“Finally I got acquainted with a Mis Bascum, and she done me a sight of harm.  You see, havin’ few pies of her own to bake, she was fond of puttin’ her fingers into her neighborses, but she done it so neat that no one mistrusted she was takin’ all the sarce and leavin’ all the crust to them, as you may say.  Wal, I told her my werryments and she sympathized real hearty, and said I didn’t ought to stan’ it, but have things to suit me, and enjoy myself, as other folks did.  So when she put it into my head I thought it amazin’ good advice, and jest went and done as she told me.

“Lisha was the kindest man you ever see, so when I up and said I warn’t goin’ to drudge round no more, but must hev a girl, he got one, and goodness knows what a trial she was.  After she came I got dreadful slack, and left the house and the children to Hen’retta, and went pleasurin’ frequent all in my best.  I always was a dressy woman in them days, and Lisha give me his earnin’s real lavish, bless his heart! and I went and spent ’em on my sinful gowns and bunnets.”

Here Mrs. Wilkins stopped to give a remorseful groan and stroke her faded dress, as if she found great comfort in its dinginess.

“It ain’t no use tellin’ all I done, but I had full swing, and at fust I thought luck was in my dish sure.  But it warn’t, seein’ I didn’t deserve it, and I had to take my mess of trouble, which was needful and nourishin,’ ef I’d had the grace to see it so.

“Lisha got into debt, and no wonder, with me a wastin’ of his substance; Hen’retta went off suddin’, with whatever she could lay her hands on, and everything was at sixes and sevens.  Lisha’s patience give out at last, for I was dreadful fractious, knowin’ it was all my fault.  The children seemed to git out of sorts, too, and acted like time in the primer, with croup and pins, and whoopin’-cough and temper.  I declare I used to think the pots and kettles biled over to spite each other and me too in them days.