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Updated: June 24, 2025
When Ruey spoke in that way, Philip knew she meant it, and he sighed at the prospect of discordant breakfasts through a series of experiments. A text about "A dinner of herbs" floated through his mind as he walked abstractedly toward his store. After Mrs. Thorne had dried her tears she walked to the kitchen, and with her own hands scraped that acid, alkaline mess into the drain.
And Miss Ruey having smoothed her hair, and arranged her frisette and cap, began to reflect upon herself as the cause of the whole disturbance. If she had not let them run while she indulged in reading and singing, this would not have happened. So the toilful good soul kept them at her knee for the next hour or two, while they looked through all the pictures in the old family Bible.
They don't know what ails 'em, nor nobody." "It's her mother she's after," said Miss Ruey. "The Lord only knows," said Miss Roxy; "but them kind o' children always seem homesick to go back where they come from. They're mostly grave and old-fashioned like this 'un.
He tried other doors with no better success; then he visited his neighbours. They could give him no clue. He came back and stood in a dazed way on his own steps, looking up and down the street. He went down into the town and peered into the stores, but no Ruey. He called upon her most intimate friends they didn't know she was absent.
"I declare, Ruey, you are silly; your head is always full of weddin's, weddin's, weddin's nothin' else from mornin' till night, and night till mornin'. I tell you there's other things have got to be thought of in this world besides weddin' clothes, and it would be well, if people would think more o' gettin' their weddin' garments ready for the kingdom of heaven.
"Well, now, did I ever!" said Miss Ruey, when she had ascertained that no bones were broken; "if that ar young un isn't a limb! I declare for't I pity Mis' Pennel, she don't know what she's undertook. How upon 'arth the critter managed to get Mara on to the hay, I'm sure I can't tell, that ar little thing never got into no such scrapes before."
Sech always has to come to spots that they can't get over nor under nor round, to have their own way, but jest has to give right up square." "Well, Roxy," said Miss Ruey, "how does the poor little thing take it? Has she got reconciled?" "Reconciled!
"So I tell Roxy," said Miss Ruey, who had been absent from the room to hold private consultations with Miss Emily concerning the biscuits and sponge-cake for tea, and who now sat down to the quilt and began to unroll a capacious and very limp calico thread-case; and placing her spectacles awry on her little pug nose, she began a series of ingenious dodges with her thread, designed to hit the eye of her needle.
Let us suppose in the interval, how Moses and Mara read Virgil with the minister, and how Mara works a shepherdess with Miss Emily, which astonishes the neighborhood, but how by herself she learns, after divers trials, to paint partridge, and checkerberry, and trailing arbutus, how Moses makes better and better ships, and Sally grows up a handsome girl, and goes up to Brunswick to the high school, how Captain Kittridge tells stories, and Miss Roxy and Miss Ruey nurse and cut and make and mend for the still rising generation, how there are quiltings and tea-drinkings and prayer meetings and Sunday sermons, how Zephaniah and Mary Pennel grow old gradually and graciously, as the sun rises and sets, and the eternal silver tide rises and falls around our little gem, Orr's Island.
Ruey Thorne, unlike some young wives, did not think it interesting to profess utter ignorance of domestic matters; on the contrary, she had an ambition to excel as a housekeeper. She had a general knowledge of many things, but every housekeeper knows that practice only brings perfection. It is one thing to watch Bridget making bread a few times, and another thing entirely to make it one's self.
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