hev meat or butter, she put it all on my plate. When it come
to be my share to work without eatin', then I understood.

"Many a time o' nights I heard her a-turnin' and moanin' in her sleep,
as if soul and body was clean wore out; and at last I went to the lady
that lived in the house with the painted door, and fitted young ladies
with corsets, and sold them pomatum that made the hair grow to their
heels,--so she said,--and told how my mother moaned in the night as if
she was a-bein' drownded in the sea; and she told me it was a nasty
habit some folks had,--mostly because they slept too sound,--and that,
if I would give her a rough shake, she guessed she would come out all
right. I tried to believe her on account o' the pomatum and the painted
door, partly; but it wa'n't in the heart o' me to give the rough shake,
and I never done it, thank the Lord!

"Sometimes the fine lady would come in with her sewin'-work to bring us
a little sunshine, she used to say, and I'm sure she never brought
nothin' else, nor that neither, that anybody could see; and I always
noticed that my mother felt a good deal less cheerful arter one o' these
visits.

"'Why don't you ride out, Mrs. Chidlaw?' she would say, 'and why don't
you call the doctor? and why don't you wear warm flannels?' and then why
didn't she do a thousand things that wa'n't to be thought on, 'cause
they wa'n't in the nater o' the case; and then she would go away, sayin'
she would run in another time and bring more sunshine!

"My mother generally cried for a spell arter one o' these bright
mornin's; and I didn't wonder, for it seemed to me as if the scent o'
the pomatum was pison, and all the air was heavy like, arter one o' the
visits.

"She used to set up o'nights, a-workin', my mother did, long beyond
midnight sometimes. 'What makes you, mother?' I would say. 'O, 'cause I
like it, John!' she 'd answer, so lively like; and then she 'd begin to
hum a tune, maybe, as if she was overflowin' with sperits.

"She didn't seem to need sleep no more, she said, and, besides, she
wanted to be wide awake when father come. So night arter night she would
set by our one taller candle, a-mendin' of my jackets, and a-darnin' of
my stockin's, and a-straightenin' and a stiffenin' up of the run-down
heels of my old shoes.

"'I don't care nothin' about 'em, mother,' I would say. 'I 'd just as
lives be a wearin' on 'em ragged as not, and you 've chores enough
without a-mindin' of me so