"Mother, won't you put on your gown and come to church this afternoon? Do! It will rest you. Do, mother!"
"You forget I've got to get supper, child. Your father doesn't think it necessary that anybody should rest, or go to church, or do anything except work. What he is thinking of, I am sure I don't know. There is no place to eat in but this room, and he is going to bring a stranger into it; and if I was dying I should have to get up for every meal that is wanted. I never thought I should come to live so! And I cannot dress myself, or prepare the victuals, or have a moment to myself, but I have the chance of Mr. Lumber and your father in here to look on! It is worse than a dog's life!"
It looked pretty bad, Nettie thought. She did not know what to say. She began clearing away the things on the table.
"And what sort of a man this Mr. Lumber is, I don't know. I dare say he is like his name—one of your father's cronies—a drinker and a swearer. And Mr. Mathieson will bring him here, to be on my hands! It will kill me before spring, if it lasts."
"Couldn't there be a bed made somewhere else for Barry, mother? and then we could eat in there."
"Where would you make it? I could curtain off a corner of this room, but Barry wouldn't have it, nor your father; and they'd all want to be close to the fire the minute the weather grows the least bit cool. No; there is nothing for me but to live on till Death calls for me!"
"Mother, Jesus said, 'He that liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.'"
"Oh, yes!" said Mrs. Mathieson, with a kind of long-drawn groan, "I don't know how it will be about that! I get so put about now in these times, that it seems to me I don't know my own soul!"
"Mother, come to church this afternoon."
"I can't, child. I've got to put up that man's bed and make it."