Dr. Perry thought so, for he had witnessed
three most contented deaths in the Baxter house. The ladies were
all members of the church and had presumably made their peace
with God, but the good doctor fancied that their pleasure in
joining the angels was mild compared with their relief at parting
with the Deacon.
"I know I hadn't ought to put the care on you, Waitstill, and you
only thirteen," poor Mrs. Baxter sighed, as the young girl was
watching with her one night when the end seemed drawing near.
"I've made out to live till now when Patience is old enough to
dress herself and help round, but I'm all beat out and can't try
any more."
"Do you mean I'm to take your place, be a mother to Patience, and
keep house, and everything?" asked Waitstill quaveringly.
"I don't see but you'll have to, unless your father marries
again. He'll never hire help, you know that!"
"I won't have another mother in this house," flashed the girl.
"There's been three here and that's enough! If he brings anybody
home, I'll take Patience and run away, as Job did; or if he
leaves me alone, I'll wash and iron and scrub and cook till
Patience grows up, and then we'll go off together and hide
somewhere. I'm fourteen; oh, mother, how soon could I be married
and take Patience to live with me? Do you think anybody will ever
want me?"
"Don't marry for a home, Waitstill! Your own mother did that, and
so did I, and we were both punished for it! You've been a great
help and I've had a sight of comfort out of the baby, but I
wouldn't go through it again, not even for her! You're real smart
and capable for your age and you've done your full share of the
work every day, even when you were at school.
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