CHAPTER X. MRS. BETH S HOME.
MRS. BETH and Tib sat by the broken lantern, wondering what had become of Gill. The old woman had a gray gown on, and a blue checked apron; and Tib was in black silk, as usual, and her white satin slippers. The two little mice had been having a gala-time all night, while Tib slept, and now they were snug in their own bedroom, getting rest for another frolic; for, every night, when market-women and market-men had gone home, there was a merry party in the vacated stalls; and the treat was nuts and apples and raisins and figs and pie and cakes, and all sorts of goodies that were left behind, with nobody to look after them.
“Coffee-time is over,” said Mrs. Beth, as the Scotchman at last appeared. “Tib and I are tired of looking for you. Is there any thing wrong?”
“‘Tis always wrong, I think, to waste precious time by lying in bed when a body is not sick,” said Gill. “I overslept myself, and, of course, it makes the work crowd all day.”
“It doesn’t often happen, I am sure,” said the old woman; “this is the first time since I’ve known you.”
“And should be the last,” said Gill. “There’s too much to be done, before the long sleep, for one to be napping when he might be up and doing.
“How beautiful the tomatoes are!” said Mrs. Beth, “and the egg-plant, and the corn,—your people will be after them soon.”
She called them Gill’s people, because there were certain parties that knew what vegetables the Scotchman brought, and always purchased them.