Womans Trials | Page 4

she is a very patient child,
and knows that her mother has a great deal to do. I often wish it was
easier for her; though, as it can't be helped, I don't let it fret me, for you
know that would do no good."
"But how in the world, Mrs. Partridge," said I, "do you manage to
provide for four children, and do for them at the same time?"
"I find it hard work," she replied; "and sometimes I feel discouraged for
a little while; but by patience and perseverance I manage to get along."
Mrs. Partridge went to her washing, and I sat down in my comfortable
room, having a servant in every department of my family, and ample
means for the supply of every comfort and luxury I could reasonably
desire.
"If she can get along by patience and perseverance," said I to myself,
"it's a shame for me that I can't." Still, for all this, when I thought of
losing my cook through the bad influence of Netty, the chambermaid, I
felt worried; and thinking about this, and what I should do for another
cook, and the trouble always attendant upon bringing a new domestic
into the house, made me, after a while, feel almost as unhappy as
before. It was not long before Netty came into my room, saying, as she
did so--
"Mrs. Smith, what frock shall I put on Alice?"
"The one with a blue sprig," I replied.
"That's in the wash," was answered.
"In the wash!" said I, in a fretful tone. "How came it in the wash?"
"It was dirty."
"No, it wasn't any such thing. It would have done very well for her to
put on as a change to-day and to-morrow."
"Well, ma'am, it's in the wash, and no help for it now," said Netty, quite
pertly.
I was dreadfully provoked with her, and had it on my tongue to order
her to leave my presence instantly. But I choked down my rising
indignation.
"Take the red and white one, then," said I.
"The sleeve's nearly torn off of that. There isn't any one that she can
wear except her white muslin."

"Oh dear! It's too bad! What shall I do? The children are all in rags and
tatters!"
And in this style I fretted away for three or four minutes, while Netty
stood waiting for my decision as to what Alice was to wear.
"Shall she put on the white muslin?" she at length asked.
"No, indeed! Certainly not! A pretty condition she'd have it in before
night! Go and get me the red and white frock, and I will mend it. You
aught to have told me it was torn this morning. You knew there was
nothing for the child to put on ut this. I never saw such a set as you
are!"
Netty flirted away, grumbling to herself. When she came in, she threw
the frock into my lap with manner so insolent and provoking that I
could hardly keep from breaking out upon her and rating her soundly.
One thing that helped to restrain me was the recollection of sundry
ebullitions of a like nature that had neither produced good effects nor
left my mind in a state of much self-respect or tranquillity.
I repaired the torn sleeve, while Netty stood by. It was the work of but
five minutes.
"Be sure," said I, as I handed the garment to Netty, "to see that one of
Alice's frocks is ironed first thing to-morrow morning."
The girl heard, of course, but she made no answer. That was rather
more of a condescension than she was willing to make just then.
Instead of thinking how easily the difficulty of the clean frock for Alice
had been gotten over, I began fretting myself because I had not been
able to procure a seamstress, although the children were "all in rags and
tatters."
"What is to be done?" I said, half crying, as I began to rock myself
backward and forward in the great rocking-chair. "I am out of all
heart." For an hour I continued to rock and fret myself, and then came
to the desperate resolution to go to work and try what I could do with
my own hands. But where was I to begin? What was I to take hold of
first? All the children were in rags.
"Not one of them has a decent garment to his back," said I.
So, after worrying for a whole hour about what I should do, and where
I should begin, I abandoned the idea of attempting any thing myself, in
despair, and concluded the perplexing debate by taking another hearty
crying-spell. The poor washerwoman was forgotten during most of this

afternoon. My own troubles were too near the