ey were very fine; and the
eyes under the straight brow were full and beautiful, a deep blue-grey,
changing and darkening at times. But the mouth and lower part of the
face was as sweet and mobile as three years old; playing as innocently
and readily upon every occasion; nothing had fixed those lovely lines.
The combination made it a singular face, and of course very handsome.
But it looked very unconscious of that fact.

Within the kitchen another woman was stepping about actively, and now
and then cast an unsatisfied look at the doorway. Finally came to a
stop in the middle of the floor to speak.

"What are you sittin' there for, Diana?"

"Nothing, that I know of."

"If I was sittin' there for nothin', seems to me I'd get up and go
somewheres else."

"Where?" said the beauty languidly.

"Anywhere. Goodness! it makes me feel as if nothin' would ever get
done, to see you sittin' there so."

"It's all done, mother."

"What?"

"Everything."

"Have you got out the pink china?"

"Yes."

"Is your cake made?"

"Yes, mother; you saw me do it."

"I didn't see you bakin' it, though."

"Well, it is done."

"Did it raise light and puffy?"

"Beautiful."

"And didn't get burned?"

"Only the least bit, in the corner. No harm."

"Have you cut the cheese and shivered the beef?"

"All done."

"Then I think you had better go and dress yourself."

"There's plenty of time. Nobody can be here for two hours yet."

"I wouldn't sit and do nothin', if I was you."

"Why not, mother? when there is really nothing to do."

"I don't believe in no such minutes, for my part. They never come to
me. Look at what I've done to-day, now. There was first the lighting
the fire and getting breakfast. Then I washed up, and righted the
kitchen and set on the dinner. Then I churned and brought the butter
and worked _that_. Then there was the dairy things. Then I've been in
the garden and picked four quarts of ifs-and-ons for pickles; got 'em
all down in brine, too. Then I made out my bread, and made biscuits for
tea, and got dinner, and eat it, and cleared it away, and boiled a ham."

"Not since dinner, mother?"

"Took it out, and that; and got all my pots and kettles put away; and
picked over all that lot o' berries, I think I'd make preserves of 'em,
Diana; when folks come to sewing meeting for the missionaries they
needn't have all creation to eat, seems to me. They don't sew no better
for it. _I_ believe in fasting, on