“You’ll have to. Men like pies better than anything you could put on the table. How are you off for meat? Have you chicken enough left or shall I bring up a ham?”
Elizabeth faced this second meal with a dread she could not have expressed; she was so tired that she could scarcely stand; her back ached, and there was a strange pain pulling at her vitals.
“I’ll attend to the supper. Go right on out of here. I am not going to bake any more pies. You crowded that churning on me this morning and you’d make my work double what it ought to be if I let you help. Go on!”
John brushed past her and lifted the bread-box.
The fierce heat of the cook stove, the pain in her back, the certain knowledge of suggestions to come, broke down the poise the girl was trying to maintain.
“I don’t want any remarks about that bread-box! I’ve got sense enough to get supper. Go on out to your own work and let me attend to mine.”
John Hunter stepped back in astonishment. He had been sympathetic, and had really wanted to be helpful. He was insulted and struck an attitude intended to convey the fact, but his wife closed the oven door with a bang and left the room without looking at him.
John punished his wife that night by letting her wash the supper dishes alone.
The next morning John continued to be aloof of manner and went to his work without attempting to empty the skimmed milk as usual, or to strain the new milk which stood at the top of the long cellar stairs. Elizabeth skimmed and strained and put the shelves in order. Her head ached, and her back never ceased hurting. When the last crock had been carried from the cave, the half-sick girl dragged herself to the bedroom and threw herself down on the unmade bed.
“I don’t care—I won’t do another stroke till I feel better, if it’s never done. It wasn’t nice for me to scold yesterday when he really wanted to help, but he makes so much extra work that I can’t get it all done. It don’t hurt him any more to be scolded than it does me to be kept on my feet after everything in my body is pulling out. He won’t run off again and leave me to carry that heavy milk. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave it.”