"
"Will you hush?" thundered the father. "What do I care what anybody
else does? I am master here."
No one spoke again. The assertion could not be denied. He was master,
and well his wife and daughters knew it.
Poor Mrs. Stillman! Two fortunate baby girls had died a few weeks
after their birth, and the tears that fell over the little coffins
were not half so bitter as those she shed when first she held their
innocent faces to her heart. When on this evening the father had shown
his authority, the two elder daughters rose from the table, and taking
a couple of large buckets, went quietly out to the barnyard, and
proceeded to milk the half dozen cows awaiting them.
It was nearly dark and very cold; but no word was spoken except to the
animals, as the girls hurried through the work and hastened back
to the kitchen, where Rachel and the mother were clearing away
the supper-table and making the needful preparations for the early
breakfast.
When all was finished the mother and daughters entered the large room
adjoining the kitchen, which served as sitting-room for the family and
bed-room for the parents, Mr. Stillman not permitting a fire kept
in any other room in the house. Mrs. Stillman sat down with her
knitting-work as close in the corner as possible; Elizabeth brought
in a large basket of rags, and she and Margaret were soon busy sewing
strips and winding balls for a carpet.
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