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Keyes, Frances Parkinson, 1885-1970

"The Old Gray Homestead"


They quarrelled considerable, an' they was pretty shabby, an' I never had
a chance to set down an' read the _Bugle_ quiet-like, after supper,
because the mendin'-basket was always waitin' for me, piled right up to
the brim. Saturday nights, what a job it was all winter to get enough
water het to fill the hat-tub over an' over again, an' fetch in front of
the air-tight. Often I was tempted to wash two or three of 'em in the
same water, but, as you know, I never done it. Thank goodness, we'd never
heard of such a thing as takin' a bath every day then! I don't deny it's
a comfort, with all the elegant plumbin' we've got now, not to feel
you've got to wait for a certain day to come 'round to take a good soak
when you're hot or dirty, but it would have been an awful strain on my
conscience an' my back both in them days. I used to think sometimes, 'Oh,
how glad I shall be when this pack of unruly youngsters is grown up an'
out of the way, an' Howard an' I can have a little peace.' An' now that
time's come, an' I set here feelin' lonely, an' thinkin' the old room
_ain't_ the same, in spite of the fact, as I said before, that it ain't
changed a mite, because we haven't got the whole eight tumblin' 'round
under our heels.


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