Mrs. Worrie Hurrybustle and Mrs. Don't-Fret Anyhow.
"Oh, dear! and this is washday," said Mrs. Worrie Hurrybustle, as she commenced hastily dressing. "I shall be so late commencing it." Mrs. W. H. felt somewhat relieved on glancing at the clock to find that it was only half-past five, but she meant to have been up much earlier, and her brow clouded as she saw the unwashed supper dishes standing as she had left them the night before when company came in. There were no kindlings in the box, nor any wood cut, and picking up a basket, she ran out to gather some chips to start the fire. There had been a shower in the night, and the chips did not prove desirable as kindlings, so she had to look about for a piece of board, find the hatchet, and convert it into splinters, and after the second attempt succeeded in lighting a fire. By this time there was an ominous red spot on each cheek, and going to the foot of the stairs, she called to her liege lord:— "John, are you going to get up, or not? There isn't a stick of wood cut, and I'm in a hurry!" If she had waited a little longer before rising, the good man would have been up, and the wood would have been ready soon afterwards, but she was in too much of a hurry to delay a moment after opening her eyes, and she only wished she could have waked up sooner. Ten minutes later, he sauntered leisurely towards the wood-pile, whistling as he walked along. "Dear Worrie, why don't you take things easy, and not allow yourself to get so nervous? You have all day before you." "It's very easy for men to talk," she replied, as the red spots came on her cheeks. "I ought to have been at the washing an hour ago, and I would have done it if you had only seen to the wood and things." Breakfast, meanwhile, was served and eaten, after which, hastily clearing away the breakfast, she stacked the unwashed dishes on the table, and gathered up the clothes. It was quite a large wash, and she sighed as she sorted them over, and thought of the task before her. Gathering up the finest she put them in the tub, got the wash-board, and went at it, while scattered over the floor, were piles of the most soiled ones, which, if they had only been given a suds to themselves in which to soak, would have washed in half the time. The sun rose higher and higher as she stood over that tub, rubbing, rubbing, pausing only to wipe the perspiration from her heated face, or to add more clothes to the tub. No time had she to note the perfect beauty of the day, to list to the warblings of the birds, the hum of the bees, or gaze on the far-away floating clouds. That washing was to be done, the breakfast dishes to wash, dinner to get, beds to make, sweeping and scrubbing to do, and many other little things to be attended to. Willie came running in, screaming at the top of his voice, from a bee sting, and while she bathed the painful foot, little Kate played in the wash tub; so that when Mrs. W. H. returned to her work, she found that young lady enjoying herself hugely, and so wet that it was necessary to change every garment upon her. Things seemed to combine together with the willful intention of causing delay. The wood also gave out, so, from that time on till noon, the fire had to be fed with what chips she and the children could gather up. When she got ready to make the starch, there was nothing clean in which to make it, and she was compelled to take time to wash something for that purpose. Everything in the kitchen appeared to have been used, and was scattered here and there in the way. "And those dishes," she thought, "if I only had time to wash them, and put them away! how the flies do swarm over them!" and as she passed the kitchen glass, and caught a glimpse of herself she added:— "Oh! what a fright I am with my burning face and uncombed hair. I do hope no one will come and catch me looking so, but I just cannot spare the time on wash morning to attend to my appearance." Yet scarcely had the thought passed from her mind, when she heard a rap. "Some of the neighbors, probably," she thought as she opened the door, but no such escape awaited her; it was an acquaintance of girlhood days, a gentleman she had known long ago, and whom she had not met for several years, and to be caught looking like that. "He was passing through town," he said, "and thought as he had a few minutes to spare that he would like to see how his old friend stood the wear of years." Mortified and embarrassed almost beyond endurance, Mrs. W. H. could scarcely look him in the face, for while she apologized for her appearance on the plea that it was wash-day, she felt in her heart that no words or occasion could justify her uncombed hair, or the condition of her front room. Over a chair lay her summer shawl, just as she had thrown it the night before when she came from church; on the centre table lay her hat and gloves, while scattered promiscuously here and there about the room were sundry garments, which she was never known to hang away in their proper place since she had been married. The call was a painful one to her, and she felt relieved when her friend arose to go. Going wearily back to the kitchen, she sat down on the nearest chair and indulged in a hearty cry. "If I could ever have anything half way convenient," she thought, "I might take my work more leisurely, and tidy up as I go along. But just think how I have to do; instead of going down cellar out of the kitchen I have to run into the sitting-room, and every pail of rain-water I want, go half-way round the house, and then draw it up by hand, enough to break my back. No pantry, no shelves, nowhere to put things out of sight, and John would fall headlong over the slop-pail and never think of emptying it, and as for taking up the ashes and carrying them out, I don't believe he knows such a thing is ever done about a stove. And now, that I've got the clothes washed, I must ring them through the rinse with my hands, nearly parboiled with the hot suds; then I will have to put up a line. If I only had a wire line, like Mrs. Don't fret's, how much time it would save every week in putting up and taking down to say nothing of the clothes never freezing to it in winter time," and while her thoughts were busy, she was again bending over the tub, rapidly rinsing and starching, and at half-past eleven the wash was on the line; but not one moment had she to pause or rest, as she hurried back into the kitchen. Dinner must be prepared immediately, and the dishes were to wash before the table could be spread. At half-past twelve she sank into her chair at the table, overheated and trembling with exhaustion; altogether so utterly tired that she was unable to eat a mouthful. She helped the children, and then languidly leaned back and watched the tremor of her hand as she toyed with her teaspoon. "Tired?" queried her husband, as he suddenly looked up and noticed how listless she looked. "So tired and worried that it seems as though it would be almost an impossibility to arise to my feet. Oh, dear! I wish I was through for to-day. I know one thing, however, sitting here will not finish the work." "Well, but why don't you rest yourself first? go and lie down for an hour or two and you will feel better." "That's the way a man would do, I know, even if he knew he would not finish to-day, but I could not sit down in such a looking room as this; as it is, I expect some one will be in before my dress is changed." So to work she bent all her energies, and when the dishes were put away, the kitchen scrubbed and tidied up, the rooms swept and dusted, beds made and the Sunday clothes hung up, the clock chimed three, and with her face almost purple from over-exertion, she slowly ascended the stairs, and half blind and faint, lay down on her bed while every heart-beat sent the hot blood throbbing in fierce pulsations all over her body. The next morning she rose, stiff and weary, and with a feeling of utter exhaustion went about preparing breakfast. "Oh! I wish I had not sprinkled down the clothes last night," she sighed, as she put the irons on the stove, an hour afterward. "Now they must be ironed to-day, or they will spoil and I feel so little like it, I am tired all over." But she took no warning from the experience of the previous day. By that time, the seething hot stove proclaimed the fact that the irons were ready for their work, and listlessly, and scarcely able to drag one foot after the other, due from the over-exertion and over-heating of her blood the day before, Mrs. W. H. commenced her ironing, feeling that she had no ambition whatever to do her work well, but only the desire to get through with it in the least possible time. Through all the long, warm forenoon, she crammed wood into the stove, and pushed her table further and further from it, as from time to time she felt she should surely faint from the heat; but the irons must be kept hot or the work dragged. The next morning she could not rise from her bed. A nervous headache had seized her, her temples throbbed painfully, while every nerve seemed strung to its utmost tension. "This comes of not taking things easier; you must rush and hurry if you half die for it," was the sympathy extended by her husband, as he descended to the kitchen, and with the children's aid, after some fashion, got their breakfast. But there was too much to do to lie there, and afternoon found Mrs. W. H. sitting in her rocking-chair, dizzy and faint, and with trembling hands doing up the mending of the week. And in this way her life dragged on, one continual strain to keep up with the work that seemed to drive from week to week. It is no wonder that, as the years went by, she grew haggard and nervous, without ambition or purpose, and the only longing that possessed her was for rest, to get away from it all, but never once suspecting that she herself was at all at fault for the continual drive in which she lived and kept all those around her. Mrs. Don't fret Anyhow was Mrs. Hurrybustle's neighbor. At half past five on that same Monday morning, she appeared in her kitchen neatly dressed, and her hair arranged in the same nice order that it was on the evening previous. Mr. D. A. had risen before her, as he always did, started the kitchen fire, put on the kettle, and was then taking exercise in the fresh morning air, at the wood-pile, although there was fully a cord already cut and carefully piled about the sides of a small wood-house opening out of the kitchen, and the box that stood by the stove was well filled, both with wood and plenty of dry, finely-split kindlings. Everything in the kitchen was neat and in perfect order. It was a rule with Mrs. D. A. never to let one day's work run into another; each day brought enough of its own. So, on the evening before, the supper dishes had been washed, the table laid for breakfast, and every Sunday garment put away in its place, books and papers picked up and arranged, and furniture restored to something like order. Mrs. D. A. was an early riser, and always took the time to comb her hair and adjust a fresh collar before she went down stairs; and while thus occupied, she aroused the children and saved herself the trouble of coming back to awaken them. In half an hour all were cheerfully seated at breakfast, the wash water was heating, and the work of the day commenced. As soon as they had finished, the tubs and washing-machine were brought up from the cellar, where they were kept to prevent them from falling to pieces, and arranged on a bench in the wood-house, in which was the cistern pump. The little girls meanwhile, only five and seven years old, deftly cleared up the dishes, and went about washing them in a way that bespoke careful training, while Mrs. D. A. sorted over the clothes and prepared them for washing. By this335means she avoided all the troublesome scalding and boiling which had so unfavorably affected her neighbor, Mrs. Hurrybustle. Mrs. D. A. then leisurely proceeded to do the chamber work, and put the house in order, and even sat down by the open window a few minutes to enjoy the cool, fresh air, scented by the sweet perfume of her flowers that looked so bright after the shower in the night. A bird caroled its song from a tree near by, with such an outpouring of joy from its little heart that it awoke an echo of gladness within her own soul, and she went back to her work with a song on her lips. The little girls had swept and finished the kitchen work, and now stood ready to turn the wringer, as their mother with only a little rubbing, rapidly put the pieces through it. More clothes were added to the soaking tub as the machine was supplied from it, thus making the soap do the most of the work, and as there was no boiling going on, there was no steam and heat, and the work progressed rapidly. By ten o'clock the wash was all on the wire line, always up and ready, the tubs in the cellar, and everything in order, although Mrs. D. A.'s family was exactly the same in numbers as the family of Mrs. W. H. People in the village often wondered why Mrs. D. A. had so much more time for visiting, reading, and doing fancy-work than Mrs. W. H., for their families numbered the same, yet the house of the former always seemed in order, and she never appeared hurried with her work, while Mrs. W. H. always was, and exert herself as she might, she did not seem to be able to catch up. She has since learned that the true secret lay quite as much with herself as with the work. It was a difference of persons rather than of things after all.—Christian at Work.