Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
The little Grubbling house in Budd Street was peopled all through, in every corner, with her fancies. Don't tell me she had nothing but her niggardly outside living there. And the wonder began to come up in her mind, as it did in Faith Gartney's, whether and when "something might happen" to her. "Athirst! athirst!
Grubbling is upstairs getting ready for church. After baby has his forenoon drink, and is got off to sleep supposing he shall be complaisant, and go Glory is to dust up, and set table, and warm the dinner, and be all ready to bring it up when the elder Grubbling shall have returned.
"I know now where he learns it," retorted the mistress, with persistent and angry injustice. Glory's face blazed up, and she took an involuntary step to the woman's side at the warrantless accusation. "You don't mean that, mum, and you'd oughter take it back," said she, excited beyond all fear and habit of submission. Mrs. Grubbling raised her hand passionately, and struck the girl upon the cheek.
Next morning, she went about her homely tasks with an alacrity that Mrs. Grubbling, knowing nothing of the hope that had been let in upon her dreariness, attributed wholly to the salutary effect of a "good scolding" she had administered the day before. The work she got out of the girl that Thursday forenoon!
Grubbling fancied, at the moment, that the foundation of all the simple content and quiet prosperity that evidenced themselves at present in the person of her former handmaid, had been laid in Budd Street. "And where are you living now?" proceeded she, as Glory resigned the boy to his mint stick, and was saying good-by. "Out in Kinnicutt, ma'am; at Miss Henderson's, where I have been ever since."
It was a close little house one of those houses where they have fried dinners so often that the smell never gets out in Budd Street a street of a single side, wedged in between the back yards of more pretentious mansions that stood on fair parallel avenues sloping down from a hilltop to the waterside, that Mrs. Grubbling lived in.
Grubbling had begun by sending her to a primary school for a while, irregularly, when she could be spared; and when she hadn't just torn her frock, or worn out her shoes, or it didn't rain, or she hadn't been sent of an errand and come back too late which reasons, with a multitude of others, constantly recurring, reduced the school days in the year to a number whose smallness Mrs.
Her humbleness and her faithfulness were so entire that she never thought of herself as occupying, in the eyes of others, such position. She was Miss Henderson's handmaiden, still; doing her behest, simply, as if she had but left her there in keeping, while she went a journey. So she bade good-by, and courtesied to Mrs. Grubbling and gathered up her little parcels, and went out. Fortunately, Mrs.
Put on yer best frock, and make yer hair tidy, an' I'll see to yer gettin' a good chance." Poor Glory colored up, as Mrs. Grabbling might have done if the President's wife had bidden her. Not so, either. With a glow of feeling, and an oppression of gratitude, and a humility of delight, that Mrs. Grubbling, under any circumstances whatever, could have known nothing about.
Do you think she didn't know what beauty was this child who never had a new or pretty garment, but who wore frocks "fadged up" out of old, faded breadths of her mistress's dresses, and bonnets with brims cut off and topknots taken down, and coarse shoes, and stockings cut out of the legs of those whereof Mrs. Grubbling had worn out the extremities?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking