“That is so, Alcander. Fidelia is one of the most splendid cooks in the county, and you must be proud of her, and do all you can to make her rest and recreate between meals, jest out of gratitude to the one that furnishes such delicious food.”
He looked kinder cheap; and Fidelia looked troubled, for she mistrusted that there wuz a shadder of blame bein’ cast onto Alcander; but I changed the subject, like a good mistress of ticktacks.
“I spoze, Elinor, you have read the last great book of——?” and I named a book very upliftin’, and beloved by young wimmen.
“No,” she said; she hadn’t much time for readin’, she wuz so busy makin’ Christmas gifts.
Sez Fidelia, proudly, “Elinor has hem-stitched twenty-two fine linen han’kerchiefs for the aunts and cousins on both sides, and made home-made lace to trim them with out of one-hundred-and-twenty thread.”
And I sez, “I don’t know that there wuz any thread so fine.”
“Yes,” sez Fidelia; “it looks like a cobweb; and out of that same thread she has made twenty yards of that lace to trim underclothes for her two sister-in-laws.”
“Isn’t it bad for her eyes, Fidelia?” sez I, lookin’ at the worn, red eyelids of Elinor.
“Yes,” sez Fidelia, “it wuz very hard on her; but she wanted to do it, for she thought they would prize ’em higher; and then,” sez Fidelia, “she has made two dozen doilies for Louis’ mother out of that same thread.”
“How long did it take you to do it?” sez I dryly.