"Poor folks had to," she said, taking up her work and stitching away vigorously.
"I haven't forgotten old times, Jane," Mrs. Hubbard went on, not caring to notice the ungracious tone in which this remark was made, "when we were all beginning the world together. You seem to, though, for then you used to run in and see me, and I was thinking to-night you haven't been up to our house since October."
Mrs. Snelling began to say something about "not going where she was not wanted;" but it died away lower and lower, when she remembered Mrs. Hubbard had been in twice since then.
"I know you have a great deal to keep you at home; I know how it used to be when my children were little. You didn't let me pay three visits to your one then, Jane." Mrs. Hubbard drew her thimble from her pocket and took up the top piece of mending from the big willow basket, in the most natural manner. "This is to go so, isn't it?" said she. "I can work and talk, too, you know. Mr. Hubbard has gone to church meeting; but I don't think it's exactly our place to attend to church discipline, we women are so apt to make a bad matter worse by talking it over among each other, and to people that it doesn't concern. So I thought I'd just run in sociably, and bring my thimble, as we used to do for each other."
Mrs. Snelling would have said, half an hour ago, that she was completely fortified against Mrs. Hubbard's advances, in what shape soever; but she began to find a mist gathering in her eyes, as that old kindness and affection came stealing back again in recollection.
But Mrs. Hubbard was a wise woman, and she knew that a friend aggrieved was hard to win, whether the offence had been intentional or not.
"It's pretty hard work to live right, isn't it?" she said, verging round again to the old subject, after a little talk about the roads and the weather. "Every lot in life has its trials. I used to look at rich people, and think they hadn't a care in the world; but, now Mr. Hubbard has done so well, we have to live differently and dress differently, and there's no end to looking after things. I used to work hard all day, and, when the children were asleep in the evening, sit down comfortably to sew or read; but now there's something or somebody to see to to the last minute. To be sure, as far as dress is concerned, I don't think half so much of it as I used to, when I had to plan and contrive about every cent. Why, I often used to find myself planning about my sewing in sermon-time, if you will believe it, and how I should get the girls two dresses out of one of mine. To be sure, I have no such temptations now."
Mrs. Snelling looked up suddenly, as the recollection of her Sunday plan about the cape came into her mind. Could it be that to Him, into whom all hearts are open, she had been the less sincere worshipper of the two?
"I should like to try a little prosperity, by way of a change," she said, more pleasantly than she had last spoken, but still with bitterness beneath. "I'm tired of slaving."
"Oh, Jane!" Mrs. Hubbard said, quickly, "don't choose—don't choose your trials. I used to say that very thing, and that it was all well enough for rich people to preach." Mrs. Snelling saw the painful expression that crossed her friend's face, and the current report of young Robert Hubbard's dissipation came into her mind. "Everybody has their own troubles; some don't stand out as plain as others, and don't get so much pity. Rich people get very little, and they have hard work enough to bring up their children right, and to live in peace and charity with all. I've got so now I only ask for patience to bear the trial of the time, instead of praying to have it changed, and thinking that I could bear any other better."