"And now, my dear," resumed that excellent woman, unpinning the towel that encircled her ample waist, and folding it smoothly before she laid it down, "what else is there to do this morning?"
The fire was burning cheerfully, the dishes put away, the carpet swept, the chairs set back, and the baby still sleeping soundly in the bright warmth that had diffused itself throughout the room. Mrs. Bunker already felt as if she had known Aunt Lovey for a long time; they had talked all the while they were busied about household affairs, and the new niece felt as if she could almost open her heart to the kind old lady, and consult her about those constantly occurring domestic drawbacks and trials. Joshua, good husband as he was, did not seem to understand. It was more effective than a week of formal visiting, and Mrs. Bunker's face and step brightened with the room. Now came the clouds again. "There was so much to be done, she didn't know where to begin."
"But what is it?" urged Aunt Lovey, stooping down admiringly over the cradle, for the baby looked very lovely in his quiet sleep, one little round hand pushed under his cheek—he was making as good an impression as his mother could desire.
"Oh, everything!" responded the baby's mother, in a despairing tone.
"Ah, I see, mustard to mix," and with these cabalistic words, the visitor took a deliberate survey of her hostess for the first time. "Consider me your grandmother, Sophia, and let me advise you to tidy yourself a little; that will be the first step towards it. A neat morning-dress and clean apron are next best, or perhaps better, than a good fire, in any house. I'll see to the baby."
Aunt Lucy certainly made herself at home. She put the tips of her prunella buskins on the stove hearth, and examined the hem of her skirts to see if they had contracted any dampness or mud stains in her recent walk, and then produced her knitting, as if she was settled down for some time. Mrs. Bunker took the advice, as she had former prescriptions, and found it to work as well. The morning's duties were accomplished with an ease and alacrity that astonished herself, even to making the great chamber as neat as Aunt Lovey's heart could desire, without the mortification of her knowing it had ever been otherwise.
It was not until Mr. Bunker had come from the store, and been duly astonished and delighted at his aunt's unexpected arrival, and the tidy appearance of the whole household—to tell the truth, he wondered how the last happened to be so—that Mrs. Bunker found time to seek an explanation of the significant sentence applied by the old lady to her state of despondency with regard to domestic affairs. Significant she was convinced, though she could not exactly make out the application, as her aunt had seen the mutton chops destined for dinner arrive from the butcher's, and she had never heard of mustard being taken with them. They had been duly served, praised, and eaten; the dinner dishes were washed and put away, so was the baby for his second diurnal nap, and Mrs. Bunker, notwithstanding she had company, found herself seated to her sewing by three o'clock for the first in a month, while Jane, like the unfortunate "maid" mentioned in one of the baby's favorite lullabies, was
"In the garden
Hanging out the clothes."
Aunt Lovey, looking thoughtfully over her spectacles, thought her nephew's description of his wife not so far out of the way after all, as she hemmed away industriously at a pile of new towels, the most fascinating work next to crochet one can undertake; it slips by so fast and evenly, and there seems to be so much accomplished.