Papa was safely out
of the way for the next four or five hours. I would have to be a
watchdog to keep knocks from his door.
"I should think," said Amy, pertly, tossing her curls, "that when papa
has so much to do he'd just go and do it, not stand here talking and
wasting time. It's the same thing week after week. Such a martyr."
"Amy," said mamma, severely, "don't speak of your father in that
flippant manner. Why are _you_ lounging here so idly? Gather up the
books, put this room in order, and then, with Laura's assistance, I
would like you this morning to clean the china closet. Every cup and
saucer and plate must be taken down and wiped separately, after being
dipped into hot soap-suds and rinsed in hot water; the shelves all
washed and dried, and the corners carefully gone over. See how thorough
you can be, my dears," said mamma in her sweetest tones. I wondered
whether she had known that Amy had planned to spend the rainy morning
finishing the hand-screen she is painting for grandmother's birthday.
From her looks nothing could be gathered. Mamma's blue eyes can look as
unconscious of intention as a child's when she chooses to reprove, and
yet does not wish to seem censorious. Amy is fifteen, and very
headstrong, as indeed we all are, but even Amy never dreams of hinting
that she would like to do something else than what mamma prefers when
mamma arranges things in her quiet yet masterful fashion. Dear little
mamma.
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