“No, no—mother’s not for another husband.”
“If anything might make her think upon such a change, it would be that household surely.”
“No,” answered Medora. “It’s just that helpless household that would make her sacrifice herself. Duty’s her God. She’s mother to all those children—more their mother than Aunt Polly in a way—for my aunt is so busy bringing them into the world, that she’s got to leave all the rest of the work to other people.”
Mr. Knox shook his head.
“It’s contrary to nature that such a fine woman as Mrs. Trivett should hide her light under that bushel,” he asserted. “It’s a very selfish thing to let her slave and wear her fingers to the bone like that; but it often happens so. A husband and wife with a long family always seem to fasten on some good-natured, kindly creature and drag her in their house to be a slave to their children. There’s no selfishness like the selfishness of a pair with a long quiver. They’ll fairly batter the life out of anybody who’s fool enough to lend a hand; and the more such a person does for the other woman’s children, the more she may do. But I should hope your mother was too proud to let herself be used as a nursemaid to her own nieces.”
“She’s never proud where children are concerned,” answered Medora. “She’ll stop there till she’s worn out.”
“A very gloomy picture and I hope you’re wrong, Mrs. Dingle,” he answered.