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If it be a disgrace for a woman to work then is this nation in a very bad way, for few of us are the sons or daughters "of an hundred earls" can go back more than a generation or two without finding a maternal ancestor blithely swinging the useful sad-iron or taking a vigorous fall out of the wash-tub.
But I don't care how careful a wife is, nor how good an eye she may have for shirt buttons, there will come a time, when, from some cause or other, she will momentarily abate her vigilance, and that will be the very time when Betty's washing-board, or Nancy's sad-iron, has been at work upon the buttons.
"Just a few nails and a little wrappin' of twine'll make it all right," he informed his niece. "I stopped a-past and borried the nails and the hammer from Jeff Dawes; I mighty nigh pounded my thumb off knockin' in nails with a rock an' a sad-iron last week." "Looks like nobody ain't got no sense," returned Laurella Consadine ungratefully.
"I ain't got nobody to play with." "Then find somebody. But don't you step vun step out of this yard." "I don't see why I can't go outa the yard!" "Because I said so." Again the sound of the sad-iron.
The sad-iron was carefully imitated, being of copper with coals of red tinsel and smoke-wreaths of dirty twisted cotton. "Eh, Ben-Zayb, it wasn't a fool who designed that" asked Padre Camorra with a laugh. "Well, I don't see the point," replied the journalist. "But, puñales, don't you see the title, The Philippine Press? That utensil with which the old woman is ironing is here called the press!"
In the kitchen, the muffled pounding of a sad-iron upon the padded ironing-board. "Ma!" Mrs. Ericson's whitey-yellow hair, pale eyes, and small nervous features were shadowed behind the cotton fly-screen. "Vell?" she said. "I haven't got noth-ing to do-o." "Go pile the vood." "I piled piles of it." "Then you can go and play." "I been playing." "Then play some more."
Wall, as I looked off and got a plain view of the Illinois, it was headed towards me jest right, and I thought it wuz shaped some like my biggest flat-iron, or sad-iron, as some call 'em.
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