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Updated: June 26, 2025
The hard-visaged woman sat down on the wash-bench, and, covering her worn, stony visage with her checked apron, sobbed aloud. Mara was confounded. This implacably withered, sensible, dry woman, beneficently impassive in sickness and sorrow, weeping! it was awful, as if one of the Fates had laid down her fatal distaff to weep. Mara sprung up impulsively and threw her arms round her neck.
In them do the common occupations of life find niche and channel. While bright weather holds, we wash out of doors on a Monday morning, the wash-bench in the solid block of shadow thrown by the house. We churn there, also, at the hour when Sweet-Breath, the cow, goes afield, modestly unconscious of her own sovereignty over the time. There are all the varying fortunes of butter-making recorded.
In them do the common occupations of life find niche and channel. While bright weather holds, we wash out of doors on a Monday morning, the wash-bench in the solid block of shadow thrown by the house. We churn there, also, at the hour when Sweet-Breath, the cow, goes afield, modestly unconscious of her own sovereignty over the time. There are all the varying fortunes of butter-making recorded.
Judith, with her gentle bearing and her simple, convent accomplishments, was plainly the grande dame of the family. Eudora had now divested herself of the greasy, flour-smeared apron, flinging it under the wash-bench with a single all-sufficient movement, while Mary’s look was directed towards her dressing-bag.
That seemed to be about the only member he had kept clean enough for the greeting. "Aren't you hurting your heel plowing like that, Sam?" I asked, anxiously. "Heel what heel? Oh, that's all right. I haven't heard from it since you tucked it away in the cream Tuesday night. I have cold-bucketed myself every morning, standing on one leg with it up on the wash-bench so as not to wake it up.
Hours later, when the men stamped in noisily to the wash-bench, he was sitting there in the dark thinking. The results of Daddy Dunnigan's cooking were soon evident in the Blood River camp. Men no longer returned to the bunk-house growling and cursing the grub, and Moncrossen noted with satisfaction that the daily cut was steadily climbing toward the eighty-thousand mark.
"My s-u-z!" gasped the widow, and sat down on a wash-bench to recover from her amazement. Miss Maitland said nothing, yet an expression of great satisfaction settled upon her countenance, and, motioning her friend back into the kitchen, explained its cause. "Nathan himself has decided what should best be done with him. He is perfectly safe and comfortable in that cistern.
"Cake?" echoed the group, while the boy's face grew scarlet with guilt once more. "Yes, cake! We thought my tramp took it at first. Faith made it for the minister's reception and put it on the wash-bench under a dishpan to cool. 'Twas gone when she went to get it again. Hec stole it." "Hector, did you?" The boy nodded, too miserable to speak. "How much was that worth, Peace?"
Gavie was just such another boy as Duncan was, and the Lord had been good indeed to give him to them in their old age. Gavin did not appear quite so soon as expected. He came up slowly from the barn, and spent a very long time over the little wash-bench at the wood-shed door.
In the midst of our frolic Peter and Sam came on the scene, and as far as Peter was concerned it was indeed a transformation scene. Sam was very much washed and slick from some time at the wash-bench, and Peter was likewise, only Peter was not the Peter whom I had brought from town that very morning.
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