“Ha’ done then, thou runagate!” returned his mother, aiming a slap at him, which Tobias dodged by a dip of his head. “Eh, deary me, but they are a weary lot, these childre!”
“Why stand you not up to them better, Collet Pardue?” asked the neighbour who was the listener to poor Collet’s list of grievances. “Can’t you rouse yourself and see to them?”
“Seems to me, Mistress Hall, I’ve got no rouse left in me, wi’ all these troubles a-coming so thick,” said poor Collet, shaking her head. “If you’d six lads and four maids, and your man in prison for nought, and the bucket down the well, and the chicken strayed, and your poor old mother sick a-bed, and them pies in the oven a-burning this minute—Oh me!”
Collet made a rush at the oven, having to push Charity Bradbridge out of her way, who was staring open-mouthed at the brilliant parrot wrought in floss silks on the exterior of Mrs Tabitha’s large work-bag.
“I’ve told you twenty times, Collet Pardue, you lack method,” pursued Mrs Hall, with a magisterial air. “Why set you not Esdras to hunt the chicken, and Noah to fish up the bucket, and Beatrice to wait on your mother, and Penuel to see to the pies, and leave yourself freer? I make my childre useful, I can tell you. The more children, the more to wait on you.”
“Well, Mistress Hall, I’ve always found it t’other way about—the more childre, the more for you to wait on. Pen, she’s ironing, and Beatie is up wi’ mother. But as to Esdras hunting up the chicks, why, he’d come home wi’ more holes than he’s got, and that’s five, as I know to my cost; and set Noah to get up the bucket, he’d never do nought but send his self a-flying after it down the well, and then I should have to fish him up. ’Tis mighty good talking, when you’ve only three, and them all maids; maids can be ruled by times; but them lads, they’re that cantankerous as— There now, I might ha’ known Noah was after some mischief; he’s never quiet but he is! Do ’ee look, how he’s tangled my blue yarn ’at I’d wound only last night—twisted it round every chair and table in the place, and— You wicked, sinful boy, to go and tangle the poor cat along with ’em! I’ll be after you, see if I’m not! You’ll catch some’at!”
“Got to catch me first!” said Noah, with a grin, darting out of the door as his over-worried mother made a grab at him.
Poor Collet sat down and succumbed under her sufferings, throwing her apron over her face for a good cry. Beatrice, who came down the ladder which led to the upper chambers, took in the scene at a glance. She was a bright little girl of ten years old. Setting down the tray in her hand, she first speedily delivered the captive pussy, and then proceeded deftly to disentangle the wool, rolling it up again in a ball.
“Prithee, weep not, Mother, dear heart!” she said cheerily. “Granny sleeps, and needs no tending at this present. I’ve set pussy free, I shall soon have the yarn right again. You’re over-wrought, poor Mother!”
Her child’s sympathetic words seemed to have the effect of making Collet cry the harder; but Tabitha’s voice responded for her.