Mrs. Hunter was expected to return in a little over a week, and the first days when Elizabeth was able to begin to do small things about the house were spent in getting the house cleaning done and the entire place in order for her coming. It happened that a light frost fell upon Kansas that year weeks before they were accustomed to look for it; and the tomato vines were bitten. It was necessary to can quickly such as could be saved. In those days all the fruit and vegetables used on Kansas farms were “put up” at home, and Elizabeth, with two, and sometimes more, hired men to cook for, was obliged to have her pantry shelves well stocked. The heat of the great range and the hurry of the extra work flushed the pale face and made deep circles below her eyes, but Elizabeth’s pride in her table kept her at her post till the canning was done. By Saturday night the tomatoes were all “up,” and the carpets upstairs had been beaten and retacked. Mrs. Hunter’s room had been given the most exact care and was immaculate with tidies and pillow-shams, ironed by Elizabeth’s own hands, and the chickens to be served on the occasion of her arrival were “cut up” and ready for the frying pan.
Sunday there was a repast fit for a king when John and his mother came from town. Every nerve in Elizabeth’s body had been stretched to the limit in the production of that meal. Too tired to eat herself, the young wife sat with her baby in her arms and watched the hungry family devour the faultless repast. She might be tired, but the dinner was a success. The next morning, when the usual rising hour of half-past four o’clock came, it seemed to the weary girl that she could not drag herself up to superintend the getting of the breakfast.
“Mother’ll help you with the morning work and you can lie down afterward,” John assured her when she expressed a half determination not to rise.
But after breakfast Mrs. Hunter suggested that they scour the tinware, and the three women put in the spare time of the entire morning polishing and rubbing pans and lids. As they worked, Mrs. Hunter discussed tinware, till not even the shininess of the pans upon which they worked could cover the disappointment of the girl that her mother-in-law should have discovered it in such a neglected condition.
“Really, child, it isn’t fit to put milk in again till it’s in better condition. How did you happen to let it get so dull and rusty?”
“Now, mother, it isn’t rusty at all. It is pretty dull, but that’s not Hepsie’s fault. It was as bright as a pin when I got up, but we’ve had the tomatoes to put up and the housecleaning to do and it couldn’t be helped,” Elizabeth replied, covering up any share the girl might have had in the matter. She knew the extra work which had fallen on Hepsie’s shoulders in those last weeks, and particularly since she herself had been out of bed, for the girl loved Elizabeth and had shielded her by extra steps many times when her own limbs must have ached with weariness.
“You don’t mean to say you used the tin pans for any thing as corroding as tomatoes!” Mrs. Hunter exclaimed in astonishment.
“We used everything in sight I think—and then didn’t have enough,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.
“But you should never use your milk pans for anything but milk, dear,” the older woman remonstrated. “You know milk takes up everything that comes its way, and typhoid comes from milk oftener than any other source.”
“There are no typhoids in tomatoes fresh from the vine,” Elizabeth replied testily, and Mrs. Hunter dropped the subject.