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Updated: June 6, 2025
And thus it came to pass that Eudora’s suitors, swathed in aprons, meekly washed dishes shoulder to shoulder, while their souls craved the performance of valorous deeds. As this was the last stage station on the way to Lost Trail, Mary Carmichael was perforce obliged to content herself till Mrs. Yellett should call or send for her.
The matriarch then called the remaining members of her household officially—the Misses Yellett accomplished their early morning toilets with the simplicity of young robins. Only the new governess hung back, but finally mustered up enough courage to say that if such a thing was possible she would like to have a bath. Mrs.
Yellett took a hurried survey of the camp, lessening the distance between herself and one of the light wagons with a gait in which grace was entirely subservient to speed; then, with one capacious wrench of the arms, she loosened the spring seat from the wagon and bore it to the governess with an artless air of triumph. It was difficult, under these circumstances, to explain to Mrs.
Of all this Mary was ignorant when she proposed that Mrs. Yellett saw off the tub-handles in the cause of culture. However, Mrs. Yellett procured a saw, yet the hand that held it lingered in its descent on the handles. She contemplated the tub as affectionately as Hamlet regarding the skull of "Alas, poor Yorick!" "This," she observed, "is the only thing about camp that reminds me I’m a woman.
"Did you know that old Ma’am Yellett had a school-marm up to her place?" asked one of the men, apropos of Eastern prettiness. "Well, well," Costigan reminisced, "’tis some av thim Yillitt lambs thot’s six fut in their shtockings, if Oi be rimimbering right. Sure, the tacher ought to be something av a pugilist, Oi’m thinkin’."
"That’s the kind of book for me," continued Mrs. Yellett, vigorously swishing about in the soapy water. "Story-books don’t count none with me these days. It’s my opinion that things are snarled up a whole lot too much in real life without pestering over the anguish of print folks.
Indeed, the drive seemed to combine every known form of physical exercise. Mrs. Yellett herself was in fine fettle; she drove sitting for a while, then rose, standing on a narrow ledge while she held the four ribbons lightly in one hand and tickled the leaders with a long whip carried in the other.
"Quit smilin’ like a rattlesnake, you plumb fool!" called out Mrs. Yellett. "Do you want to lose ’em again?" So, curtailing the muscular contraction indicative of his pleasure, the Infidel again took his place among the bed-quilts and the journey was resumed. It was now about five in the afternoon.
I’d plumb forget it many a time if it warn’t for this little tub. The identity of a woman is mighty apt to get mislaid when dooty compels her to assoome the pants cast aside by the nacheral head of the house in sickness or death. It’s ben six years now since paw’s done a thing but set ’round and wait for meals." Mrs. Yellett sighed laboriously. "Not that I’m holdin’ it agin him none.
Interpreting the trend of their glance and expression, up flared Mrs. Yellett, with as great a show of indignation as if some one had set a match to her petticoats. "I declare, I never see such children; no more nacheral feelin’s than a herd of coyotes; never thinks of a plumb thing but grub.
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