And Sunday and warday was teydey at heame:
Now to see her whol’d stockin’s, her brat, and her gown,
She’s a shem and a byzen to all the heale town.
“O wad she be guided, and stick to her wheel,
There’s nane kens how fain I wad see her dui weel.”
“O Wife,” by Anderson.
The house once cleared of the Frenchmen, Miss Wewitz’s first act was to throw up all the windows of the best bed-room, amid an infinity of lamentations as to the state of her property in that apartment—and endless doubts as to the possibility of ever getting the smell of that horrid tobacco smoke out of the curtains, or restoring the place to its wonted cleanliness and sweetness.
This done, she mounted the stairs towards the linen-room, congratulating herself on having got rid of the fellows without something dreadful occurring between them and Chutney, the bare thoughts of which had prevented her having a wink of sleep for the last two nights.
On entering the linen-room, there sat the figure in the same dejected attitude as that in which Miss Wewitz had found it in the morning. The schoolmistress began to grow alarmed at what she imagined to be the extreme stubbornness of the girl; and addressing the figure in her most impressive manner, said—
“I hope and trust, Miss, you have by this time been awakened to a sense of the impropriety of your conduct.”