“Wal, she went, and ef you’ll believe me Lisha wouldn’t let her in!  He handed my best things out a winder and told her to tell me they were gittin’ along fust rate with Florindy Walch to do the work.  He hoped I’d have a good time, and not expect him for a consider’ble spell, for he liked a quiet house, and now he’d got it.

“When I heard that, I knew he must be provoked the wust kind, for he ain’t a hash man by nater.  I could have crep’ in at the winder ef he wouldn’t open the door, I was so took down by that message.  But Mis Bascum wouldn’t hear of it, and kep’ stirrin’ of me up till I was ashamed to eat ’umble pie fust; so I waited to see how soon he’d come round.  But he had the best on’t you see, for he’d got the babies and lost a cross wife, while I’d lost every thing but Mis Bascum, who grew hatefuler to me every hour, for I begun to mistrust she was a mischief-maker,—­widders most always is,—­seein’ how she pampered up my pride and ’peared to like the quarrel.

“I thought I should have died more’n once, for sure as you live it went on three mortal days, and of all miser’ble creeters I was the miser’blest.  Then I see how wicked and ungrateful I’d been; how I’d shirked my bounden duty and scorned my best blessins.  There warn’t a hard job that ever I’d hated but what grew easy when I remembered who it was done for; there warn’t a trouble or a care that I wouldn’t have welcomed hearty, nor one hour of them dear fractious babies that didn’t seem precious when I’d gone and left ’em.  I’d got time to rest enough now, and might go pleasuring all day long; but I couldn’t do it, and would have given a dozin bunnets trimmed to kill ef I could only have been back moilin’ in my old kitchen with the children hangin’ round me and Lisha a comin’ in cheerful from his work as he used to ’fore I spoilt his home for him.  How sing’lar it is folks never do know when they are wal off!”

“I know it now,” said Christie, rocking lazily to and fro, with a face almost as tranquil as little Vic’s, lying half asleep in her lap.

“Glad to hear it, my dear.  As I was goin’ on to say, when Saturday come, a tremenjus storm set in, and it rained guns all day.  I never shall forgit it, for I was hankerin’ after baby, and dreadful worried about the others, all bein’ croupy, and Florindy with no more idee of nussin’ than a baa lamb.  The rain come down like a reg’lar deluge, but I didn’t seem to have no ark to run to.  As night come on things got wuss and wuss, for the wind blowed the roof off Mis Bascum’s barn and stove in the butt’ry window; the brook riz and went ragin’ every which way, and you never did see such a piece of work.