Her quick glance scanned the shirts hanging neatly folded on the large horse in front of the fire.
"Are they right?" asked Meg. "I had to guess a little, because I have not ironed any of these sort of shirts ever."
"They will do quite well, thank you, my dear. I don't fold 'em just so, but I don't see that it matters much for once. He won't know no difference."
Just then a step was heard on the wooden stairs, and Meg started and turned round.
"Is my little woman here?" asked a voice that made her heart bound.
"Just ain't she?" answered her mother-in-law with animation. "Here have I been sleepin' like any top, and Meg's come and done my work for me."
Jem looked well pleased. He knew his upright old mother far too well to fear that Meg would be called on too often to help.
"Oh, it's nothing," said Meg; "but now, Jem, you must come to dinner, or you'll not be back in your hour."
They left the old woman, and as they went down, up came the man to fetch his shirts.
"All right," said Mrs. Seymour, handing them to him; "and I've put on the buttons. No thanks to Jenny, though, I can tell you. It's my new daughter as has helped me."