"She's no hand at washing,—leastways not to make anything respectable,—so I take a few of her things cheap. She was a tidy enough woman when she came; but poor living and many cares have beaten the life out of her."
Meg sighed, and wondered if there might be anything she might do to lighten the burden; perhaps some day she might hold the baby or something.
Mrs. Seymour did not sit down to doze in her chair this morning. She kept Meg well supplied with things to iron, and Meg satisfied her as much as on the previous day.
"You do it just right," she said, approvingly. "You don't fiddle over it, and you don't hurry over it. Now, Jenny slights some of it, and puts so much work into the rest, that I tell her it's a wonder if there's a bit of profit left."
"I'm glad I do it right," said Meg, smiling. And then she thought of Jem's dinner, and ran down-stairs to put her pie in the little oven.
"How's your bread getting on?" asked Mrs. Seymour, when she came back.
"Oh, I left it for to-day. It does not matter," said Meg, rather hurriedly, for she did not want her mother to know what a disappointment it had been to have to give it up after all Jem's care and trouble.
Mrs. Seymour made no remark, but she drew her own conclusions; and when Meg had finished the ironing and had gone down-stairs, she went into the back room, and said to Miss Hobson—
"Did you hear that about the bread?"
"Yes, I did. I don't know as I could 'a done it; only married hardly a week. That's what I call thinking of others afore yerself."