"Let her go," said John, who knew Mrs. Ruggles to be a fashionable
woman, the mother of nine children, whose ages varied from one to
fifteen; "let her go--she'll be glad to come back," and the sequel
proved he was right, for just as it was beginning to grow light on
the second day of her absence, someone rapped at his window, and a
half-crying voice whispered, "Let me in, John; I've been out to
sarvice enough."

John complied with the request, and when Janet came down to the
kitchen, how was she surprised at finding Hannah there, leisurely
grinding her coffee, with an innocent look upon her sable face, as
if nothing had ever happened. John's raillery, however, loosened her
tongue at last, and very minutely she detailed her grievances. "She
had done a two weeks' washing, besides all the work, and the whole
of them young ones under her feet into the bargain. Then at night,
when she hoped for a little rest, Mrs. Ruggles had gone off to a
party and stayed till midnight, leaving her with that squallin'
brat; but never you mind," said she, "I poured a little paregol down
its throat, or my, name aint Hannah," and with a sigh of relief at
her escape from "Miss Ruggles," she finished her story and resumed
her accustomed duties, which for many weeks she faithfully
performed, finding but little fault with the frequent suggestions of
Mrs. Janet Blodgett, whose rule in the household was for the time
being firmly established.




CHAPTER VI.