"Oh, yes: she is quite a housekeeper already," replied Letty, smiling. "You would be amused to see her flourishing her little duster and to hear her remarks upon the subject. If I am spared to teach her, I mean she shall learn to do all sorts of housework in the best manner. It is much easier to learn before one is married than afterwards."
"I fully believe that," remarked Agnes. "I remember what a difference there was between you and me when we were first married. Your work did not take up half your time,—indeed, I never could tell when you did it; while mine was under my feet all day. I worked hard and tired myself out, and, after all, nothing was ever done as it ought to be."
"My own work was so light, in comparison with what I had been used to, that it seemed as nothing to me," replied Letty; "and there was Mrs. De Witt always at hand to help me in any emergency."
"She was always a good soul," said Agnes. "I remember the biscuits she baked and carried over to you the night you were married. It was a curious wedding present: wasn't it? No one but Mrs. De Witt would ever have thought of such a thing."
"It was a most acceptable present," said Letty, and laughing. "We had plenty of cake, preserves, and all that; but no one had thought of the bread. I well remember John's blank face when I asked about the flour."
"And do you recollect Aunt Eunice's visit? I always believed the state of my kitchen and myself that unlucky day was the real cause of the good old lady's will. I remember how kindly she talked to me that day when I told her my grievances. I recollect your dinner, too, Letty, and how jealous I was because they all praised your cooking, and how Mrs. De Witt washed up the dishes, and how vexed I was when you asked her to tea, until I saw the little silver jug with the coat-of-arms. Your mother was a silly woman in those days, Madge."
Letty could not help fearing that Agnes was talking too much; but she seemed to find so much pleasure in recalling old scenes, and telling Madge about her early life, that she had not the heart to check her. Indeed, Dr. Woodman himself had said that nothing could make any great difference, and that she might as well be allowed her own way.
At last, towards sunset, Agnes fell asleep.
But it was but an hour or two afterwards that her breathing became oppressed, and alarming tokens of approaching death were given. Letty rang the bell for Prince, that she might send for John; but, before she had time to give the message, all was over.
She gasped for breath once or twice; a look of repose came over her face, and her eyes closed on all things below the sun.