FullReads

“Mary,” said he, “cannot you come and sew a string on for me?I do believe there is not a bosom in my drawer in order, and I am in a great hurry. I ought to have been down town an hour ago.”

The schedule was thrown aside, the work-basket taken, and Mrs. James followed him. She soon sewed on the tape, but then a button needed fastening; and, at last, a rip in his glove was to be mended. As Mrs. James stitched away on the glove, a smile lurked in the corners of her mouth, which her husband observed.

“What are you laughing at?” asked he.

“To think how famously your plan works.”

“I declare!” said he, “is this your study hour?I am sorry, but what can a man do?He cannot go down town without a shirt-bosom!”

“Certainly not,” said his wife, quietly.

When her liege lord was fairly equipped and off, Mrs. James returned to her room. A half an hour yet remained to her, and of this she determined to make the most. But scarcely had she resumed her pen, when there was another disturbance in the entry. Amy had returned from walking out with the baby, and she entered the nursery with him, that she might get him to sleep. Now it happened that the only room in the house which Mrs. James could have to herself with a fire, was the one adjoining the nursery. She had become so accustomed to the ordinary noise of the children, that it did not disturb her; but the very extraordinary noise which master Charley sometimes felt called upon to make, when he was fairly on his back in the cradle, did disturb the unity of her thoughts. The words which she was reading rose and fell with the screams and lulls of the child, and she felt obliged to close her book, until the storm was over. When quiet was restored in the cradle, the children came in from sliding, crying with cold fingers; and just as she was going to them, the dinner-bell rang.

“How did your new plan work this morning?” inquired Mr. James.

“Famously,” was the reply; “I read about seventy pages of German, and as many more in French.”

“I am sure Idid not hinder you long.”

“No–yours was only one of a dozen interruptions.”

“O, well!you must not get discouraged. Nothing succeeds well the first time. Persist in your arrangement, and by and by the family will learn that if they want anything of you, they must wait until after dinner.”

“But what can a man do?” replied his wife; “he cannot go down town without a shirt-bosom.”

“I was in a bad case,” replied Mr. James, “it may not happen again. I am anxious to have you try the month out faithfully, and then we will see what has come of it.”

The second day of trial was a stormy one. As the morning was dark, Bridget overslept, and consequently breakfast was too late by an hour. This lost hour Mrs. James could not recover. When the clock struck eleven, she seemed but to have commenced her morning’s work, so much remained to be done. With mind disturbed and spirits depressed, she left her household matters “in the suds,” as they were, and punctually retired to her study. She soon found, however, that she could not fix her attention upon any intellectual pursuit. Neglected duties haunted her, like ghosts around the guilty conscience. Perceiving that she was doing nothing with her books, and not wishing to lose the morning wholly, she commenced writing a letter. Bridget interrupted her before she had proceeded far on the first page.