“The day after to-morrow, then, you will come here,—promise me that.”
“It will be late, then, towards evening, for I have made an engagement to put a young horse in harness,—a three-year-old, and a sprightly one, they tell me,—so that I may look on the morning as filled. I see, my dear child, how shocked you are with all these unladylike cares and duties; but poor Tom and I used to weld our lives together, and while I took my share of boat-building one day, he helped me in the dairy the day after; but now that he is gone, our double functions devolve upon me.”
“How happy you must be!”
“I think I am; at least, I have no time to spare for unhappiness.”
“If I could but change with you, Polly!”
“Change what, my dear child?”
“Condition, fortune, belongings,—everything.”
“Take my word for it, you are just as well as you are; but I suppose it's very natural for one to fancy he could carry another's burden easier than his own, for it was only a few moments back I thought how I should like to be you.”
“To be me,—to be me!”
“Of course I was wrong, dearest. It was only a passing, fleeting thought, and I now see how absurd I was to wish to be very beautiful, dearly loved, and affectionately cared for, with a beautiful home to live in, and every hour free to be happy. Oh, what a sigh, dearest, what a sigh! but I assure you I have my calamities too; the mice have got at the seeds in my onion-bed, and I don't expect to see one come up.”