“Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Ellerslie, without raising her eyes, and continued murmuring half aloud, “Thirteen pounds and a half at seven-pence three-farthings—I thought there must be an error somewhere.”
“Mamma, please will you lay down the hem for me?”
“Really, my love, I am very busy at present. I think that, after all the trouble which I have taken to teach you, you might manage to do that for yourself;” and again she went on with her accounts; while Lily, looking rather discontented, slowly returned to her seat.
“Mamma,” said Eddy, rising, and laying his book on her knee, “I know my lesson.”
“Wait a minute, my boy; I will hear you almost directly.”
So Eddy waited cheerfully enough, and, to amuse himself in the meantime, began trying to mend his mother’s pen, to the no small damage of the pen, and the imminent risk of his own fingers.
“Oh, Eddy, put that knife down!” exclaimed the harassed lady, when she had raised her head for a moment to see the nature of his occupation. “Come, you had better say your lesson at once,” she continued, hopelessly laying down the bill, and taking up the spelling book. She was too gentle, too loving, to be irritable or peevish; but petty cares and petty troubles were wearing out her strength, and damping the spirits which had once been so light. I saw that though Mrs. Ellerslie fondly loved her children, she could not help feeling them a weariness to her; and though they had much affection for their mother, they had little consideration for her comfort.
“Now, Eddy,” said Mrs. Ellerslie, as the little gentleman stood with his arms pressed down to his sides before her, “how do you spell the word pan?”
“B-o-y,” replied Eddy, with emphasis.
“Oh, fie! that’s not knowing your lesson. You had better look it over again,” she continued, as a servant brought in a note with the words, “The messenger is waiting for an answer.”