That was rather more of a condescension than she was willing to make just then.
Instead of thinking how easily the difficulty of the clean frock for Alice had been gotten over, I began fretting myself because I had not been able to procure a seamstress, although the children were "all in rags and tatters." "What is to be done ?" I said, half crying, as I began to rock myself backward and forward in the great rocking-chair.

"I am out of all heart." For an hour I continued to rock and fret myself, and then came to the desperate resolution to go to work and try what I could do with my own hands.

But where was I to begin?
What was I to take hold of first?
All the children were in rags.
"Not one of them has a decent garment to his back," said I.
So, after worrying for a whole hour about what I should do, and where I should begin, I abandoned the idea of attempting any thing myself, in despair, and concluded the perplexing debate by taking another hearty crying-spell.

The poor washerwoman was forgotten during most of this afternoon.

My own troubles were too near the axis of vision, and shut out all other objects.
The dusky twilight had begun to fall, and I was still sitting idly in my chamber, and as unhappy as I could be.