The day had reached the afternoon, when Clam returned, and coming into Mrs. Nettley's kitchen inquired if her mistress had had any refreshment. Mrs. Nettley declared that she dursn't take it up and that she had waited for Clam. Upon which that damsel set about getting ready a cup of tea, with a sort of impatient promptitude.
"Have you got all through?" Mrs. Nettley asked in the course of this preparation.
"What?" said Clam.
"Your work."
"No," said Clam. "Never expect to. My work don't get done."
"But has Mr. Landholm got through his work, down at the house?"
"Don't know," said Clam. "He don't tell me. But if we was to work on, at the rate we've been a goin' to-day — we'd do up all Mannahatta in a week or so."
"What's been so much to do? — the funeral, I know."
"The funeral," said Clam, "and everything else. That was only one thing. There was everything to be locked up, and everything to be put up, and the rest to be packed; and the silver sent off to the Bank; and everybody to be seen to. I did all I could, and Mr. Winthrop he did the rest."
"He'll be worn out!" said Mrs. Nettley.