When she vanished from the eyes of her public, and a high-salaried housekeeper, a butler, a nursery governess and an extra Abigail took her place and did half her work in the satin-lined shell out of which she had crept, maimed and well-nigh murdered, it was announced that she was "under the care of a specialist at a retreat." A retreat! Heaven save and pardon us for making such homes part and parcel and a necessity of our century and our land! Our Rich Man's Wife never left it until she was borne forth into the securer refuge of the narrow house that needed none of her care-taking.

Upon the low green thatch lies heavily the shadow of a mighty monument that, to the satirist's eye, has a family likeness to the stone pile which killed her.
The Farmer's Wife was born and bred among the prairies, out of sight of which she had traveled but once, and that on her wedding journey.
She came back from the brief outing to take possession of "her own house"-- prideful phrase to every young matron.
It was an eight-roomed farmstead, with no modern conveniences.

That meant, that all the water used in the kitchen and dwelling had to be fetched from a well twenty feet away; that there was no drain or sink or furnace; that stationary tubs had not been heard of, and the washing was wrung by hand.

The stalwart farmer "calculated to hire" in haying, harvesting, planting, plowing, threshing and killing times.
Whatever might have been the wife's calculations, she toiled unaided, cooking, washing, ironing, scrubbing, sewing, churning, butter-making and "bringing up a family," single-handed, with never a creature to lift an ounce or do a stroke for her while she could stand upon her feet.
When she was laid upon her bed--an unusual occurrence, except when there was a fresh baby--a neighbor looked in twice a day to lend a hand, or Mrs.Gamp was engaged for a fortnight.

It was not an unusual occurrence for the nominally convalescent mother to get dinner for six "men folks" with a three-weeks old baby upon her left arm.
Her husband was energetic and "forehanded," and without the slightest approach to intentional cruelty, looked to his wife to "keep up her end of the log." He tolerated no wastefulness, and expected to be well fed and comfortable; and comfort with this Yankee mother's son implied tidiness.