an works just so
many hours a day, and comes home feeling that his duty is done, and lies
down, if he feels inclined, or swears at the children for being noisy
and troublesome, and walks off to amuse himself, leaving his tired wife
at home, to go on with her work till midnight, if she can't get it done
before. Nobody thinks of calling _him_ anything but a poor hard working
body, slaving himself to death, for the good of his family. But a
woman--just mark the difference. I suppose, though, I need not follow
out that side of the picture?" she added shrewdly.

"Surely, no," said Clemence, "I know too well by sad experience. Why,
Mrs. Owen, I never feel the privilege of sitting down after the labors
of the day have wearied mind and body, without offering my services,
ignorant as I am of housekeeping, and awkward as I know I must be. What
would be said of me, if I did not assist in getting tea, or washing the
dishes, and even helping through with the Saturday's work, to say
nothing of the Sunday dinner, with its numberless guests to be waited
upon and entertained, upon the one day appointed for rest."

"Poor little thing! It's a hard life for such a delicate body as you.
I've heard you was rich once; was it true?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yes, madam," said Clemence, "this is a new experience for me."

"Well, it's hard," she said again. "I can't help but pity people that's
always been used to having everything they wanted, and suddenly find
themselves poor, and without anything to help themselves with. I know
some folks are glad when the proud are brought down to their own level,
and say that a little humiliation will do them good, but I ain't so.

"Amos and me started poor enough, I can tell you. All we had in the
world was a little outfit of beddin' and dishes that father gave me, and
Amos made the furniture himself. But we was both strong and active, and
what was better _willing_, and we soon got a start and have kept goin'
ahead ever since. There ain't anybody around here that's better off now.
There's only one drawback, I think my man's _too_ savin. He's had to
deny himself so long, that now, although we are in pretty easy
circumstances, he thinks he can't afford a good many things that other
people, poorer than we are, call the very necessaries of life. For
instance, I dress poorer than any woman in the place; Amos even limits
the number of calico dresses that I have; I get three a year, and one I
have to put away