Prudy Keeping House | Page 8

the freckled doggie!" asked "the long baby," suddenly raising her

head from her father's shoulder. "I meant to told 'em to bringed that
doggie."
"Let's all go down and see," said Mother Hubbard.
When they entered the dining-room, Mrs. Brooks started up in dismay.
She had left her sick husband, and come a long distance through the
storm, only to find Mrs. Allen gone, and a parcel of children decked out
like circus-riders. It seemed like a cruel mockery.
"Beg pardon," said she. "Maria, we'll go home now."
Maria was sitting near her mother, trying to force back the tears which
would find their way through her closed eyes.
"You poor dear girl," said Mother Hubbard, going up to her, and taking
her hand. "My auntie was so sorry to go off to-day, just when you were
coming! but she had to, for Uncle Augustus is sick. And it looks funny
to you--I mean to your mother--to see us dressed up this way; but
auntie said we might, just to keep us from being so lonesome. And Mrs.
Brooks, she wants you to call again the day after the day after
to-morrow. She thinks she'll be home then."
"Yes'm," struck in my Lady Magnifico! "She thinks she'll come then
with Uncle 'Gustus. He isn't much sick. If he was going to die, we
wouldn't dress up so, certainly."
"No," replied Mrs. Brooks, smiling. "It's just as well; my Maria must
have patience; that's all."
"Patience!" thought Maria; "haven't I had it, and had it?--But I do
suppose God will attend to me when He thinks best. Is this what they
call waiting on the Lord?"
"When you come nex' time, I hope you'll bring that doggie," said Fly.
Then they went away, and the last thing Maria listened to was Fly's
melodious voice; and the last thing Fly looked at was Mrs. Brooks's

nose moving up and down.
CHAPTER IV.
GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING.
It was nearly noon before Mrs. Fixfax had made her room ready for
housekeeping. She turned up her bed into a press that stood beside the
wall, brought in a high chair, a small rocking chair, two ottomans, some
pictures and picture-books, and nearly all the curiosities she could find
in the house. A cunning little cooking-stove, highly polished, was set
against the chimney, and the drollest shovel and tongs seemed to be
making "dumb love" to each other across the fireplace, like a black
Punch and Judy. Then there was a pair of brazen-faced bellows,
hanging, nose downward, on a brass nail; a large table in one corner,
with a cake-board on it, and near it a cupboard made out of an old
clothes-press, with dishes in it, and flour, sugar, raisins, spices,
rolling-pin, "aerating egg-beater," yellow bowls, wooden spoons, and
everything that could be needed in cooking for a very large family.
There were five rugs spread on the carpet, and a large oilcloth under the
stove. Last, but not least, Mrs. Fixfax brought Mrs. Allen's
tortoise-shell cat, and set her in a stuffed chair by the west window.
Then she called the children; and Mother Hubbard and Lady Magnifico
rushed in, followed by the Man in the Moon and his baby.
"Good morning, all; I hope I see you well," said Mrs. Fixfax, as sober
as Nathaniel himself. "This room is yours as long as you like. Make
yourselves perfectly at home."
"Thank you ever so much," replied Mother Hubbard, bobbing her head,
while the "pillow-sham" ruffles waved this way and that, like a field of
ripe grain.
"Whenever you want anything, just ring this bell, and I will come; or, if
you ring the other one, it will bring Rachel. And, Miss Prudy, here is
the 'Young Housekeeper's Friend;' perhaps you would like to look it
over."

Mother Hubbard blushed to her cap-border, and took the book with
another "Thank you ever so much," but did not know what else to say
to such a dignified woman.
The truth was, Mrs. Fixfax was trying so hard to keep from laughing,
that her manner was rather stiff and cold.
"I have left the ventilator open," thought she. "The children are full of
talk, and I don't want to lose a word. Besides, Mrs. Allen would
consider it safer for me to know all that's going on."
"There, glad she's gone," said Lady Magnifico, as Mrs. Fixfax's stately
form disappeared.
"She isn't as pretty as the new Miss Fixfix. 'Spect she's got the
toothache," suggested the talking infant, who was trying to lie and coo
on a rug, but was unable to do it.
"Well said, little Toddle; false toothache, hey?"
"Are they false, Mr. Moony? Then that was why she puckered up her
lips so funny," said Mother Hubbard; "it was to keep 'em in!"
"Yes; and