You did give her the calf, and when you sold Tom's pig you gave
him his money."
"Nice girls you're raising, mother," said Mr. Stillman to his
frightened wife. "They'll be turning us out of doors next. You pick up
that lawn, miss."
Rachel did so. As she folded it, he went on: "That calf was mine. I
only meant to pay her for caring for it."
"You should have told her so, then," said his daughter, facing him
with eyes keen as his own; "but you told her if she could raise it she
might have it, and, of course, she believed you."
He raised his hand as if to strike her; then, as she did not move or
drop her eyes, he turned and left the room.
July came, but the Stillman girls did not go to the picnic. Tom and
the "hands" did; and Mrs. Lansing and her boys stopped at Stillman's
on their way and offered the girls seats in their wagon. But Mr.
Stillman said his women had to get ready for the harvest hands who
were coming next day, and Margaret said to Rachel bitterly: "We
have no decent clothes to go in anyhow." And there was much washing,
ironing, cooking, and churning done as the days went on. No wonder
Mrs. Stillman grew paler and weaker, until even her husband noticed
it, and brought her a bottle of bitters, and told the girls to "keep
mother out of the kitchen," which they indeed tried to do.
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