What a day
it was to Kitty! One improvement led to another, and as things began to
grow clean in her hands, she grew wonderfully interested, and only
stopped at noon to warm her father's gruel.
It was Saturday, and Tip had gone to pile wood for Mr. Bailey. He was to
get his dinner and a grammar for his pay. He had wanted a grammar all
winter, so he worked with a will; and Kitty saw neither him nor her
mother through all the busy day. The early sun had set long before. Kitty
thought he certainly would not know that room the next morning, it was
all so changed. The paper curtain was mended and tacked up in its place;
the old lounge cover was mended and fastened on smoothly; the mantelpiece
shone and glowed in the firelight; the two shiny candlesticks, and beside
them the little box of matches, were all that remained there of the
rubbish of the morning; the floor was just as smooth and clean as soap
and ashes, with plenty of hot water and an old broom, could make it;
hoods and shawls and aprons and old shoes had all disappeared,--nothing
was lying around: the table was drawn out, the clean, smooth plates
arranged so as to hide the soiled spots on the tablecloth, the pudding
was bubbling away in the astonished kettle, and Kitty's joy had been
complete, when, only a few minutes before, after a great deal of stamping
and pounding, she had opened the door to Howard Minturn, who said,--
"Mother sent you some milk for your supper.
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