The Adventures of Ann | Page 7

been unable to live as well. It had
been a great cross to his wife, Dorcas, who was very high spirited. She
had compared, bitterly, the poverty of her household arrangements,
with the abundant comfort of her sisters-in-law.
Now, she seized eagerly at the opportunity of improving her style of
living. The old Wales house was quite a pretentious edifice for those
times. All the drawback to her delight was, that Grandma should have
the southwest fire-room. She wanted to set up her high-posted bedstead,
with its enormous feather-bed in that, and have it for her fore-room.
Properly, it was the fore room, being right across the entry from the
family sitting room. There was a tall chest of drawers that would fit in
so nicely between the windows, too. Take it altogether, she was
chagrined at having to give up the southwest room; but there was no
help for it--there it was in Deacon Wales' will.

Mrs. Dorcas was the youngest of all the sons' wives, as her husband
was the latest born. She was quite a girl to some of them. Grandma had
never more than half approved of her. Dorcas was high-strung and
flighty, she said. She had her doubts about living happily with her. But
Atherton was anxious for this division of the property, and he was her
youngest darling, so she gave in. She felt lonely, and out of her element,
when everything was arranged, she established in the southwest
fire-room, and Atherton's family keeping house in the others, though
things started pleasantly and peaceably enough.
It occurred to her that her son Samuel might have her own "help," a
stout woman, who had worked in her kitchen for many years, and she
take in exchange his little bound girl, Ann Ginnins. She had always
taken a great fancy to the child. There was a large closet out of the
southwest room, where she could sleep, and she could be made very
useful, taking steps, and running "arrants" for her.
Mr. Samuel and his wife hesitated a little, when this plan was proposed.
In spite of the trouble she gave them, they were attached to Ann, and
did not like to part with her, and Mrs. Polly was just getting her "larnt"
her own ways, as she put it. Privately, she feared Grandma would undo
all the good she had done, in teaching Ann to be smart and capable.
Finally they gave in, with the understanding that it was not to be
considered necessarily a permanent arrangement, and Ann went to live
with the old lady.
Mrs. Dorcas did not relish this any more than she did the appropriation
of the southwest fire-room. She had never liked Ann very well. Besides
she had two little girls of her own, and she fancied Ann rivaled them in
Grandma's affection. So, soon after the girl was established in the
house, she began to show out in various little ways.
Thirsey, her youngest child, was a mere baby, a round fat dumpling of
a thing. She was sweet, and good-natured, and the pet of the whole
family. Ann was very fond of playing with her, and tending her, and
Mrs. Dorcas began to take advantage of it. The minute Ann was at
liberty she was called upon to take care of Thirsey. The constant
carrying about such a heavy child soon began to make her shoulders

stoop and ache. Then Grandma took up the cudgels. She was smart and
high-spirited, but she was a very peaceable old lady on her own account,
and fully resolved "to put up with everything from Dorcas, rather than
have strife in the family." She was not going to see this helpless little
girl imposed on, however. "The little gal ain't goin' to get bent all over,
tendin' that heavy baby, Dorcas," she proclaimed. "You can jist make
up your mind to it. She didn't come here to do sech work."
So Dorcas had to make up her mind to it.
Ann's principal duties were scouring "the brasses" in Grandma's room,
taking steps for her, and spinning her stint every day. Grandma set
smaller stints than Mrs. Polly. As time went on, she helped about the
cooking. She and Grandma cooked their own victuals, and ate from a
little separate table in the common kitchen. It was a very large room,
and might have accommodated several families, if they could have
agreed. There was a big oven, and a roomy fire-place. Good Deacon
Wales had probably seen no reason at all why his "beloved wife,"
should not have her right therein with the greatest peace and concord.
But it soon came to pass that Mrs. Dorcas' pots and kettles were all
prepared to hang on the trammels when Grandma's were, and an army
of cakes