It must have been so
when he lived at home.
His sister could not eat; she took some tea, and went to bed. His
brother-in-law pulled off his boots after dinner, and put up his
stocking-feet on the stove-hearth to warm them.
There was no longer any chance to talk with his mother indoors, and
he asked her if she would not like to come out; it was very mild.
She put on her bonnet, and they strolled down the road. All the time
Lemuel had to keep from looking at her bloomers. When they met any
one driving, he had to keep himself from trying to look as if he
were not with her, but was just out walking alone.
The day wore heavily away. His brother-in-law's rheumatism came on
toward evening, and his sister's face had swollen, so that it would
not do for her to go out. Lemuel put on some old clothes he found in
his room, and milked the cows himself.
"Like old times, Lem," said his mother, when he came in.
"Yes," he assented quietly.
He and his mother had tea together, but pretty soon afterwards she
seemed to get sleepy; and Lemuel said he had been up early and he
guessed he would go to bed. His mother said she guessed she would go
too.
After he had blown out his light, she came in to see if he were
comfortable. "I presume it seems a pretty poor place to you, Lem,"
she said, holding her lamp up and looking round.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287