CHAPTER XI.
Thou art a dew-drop which the morn brings forth, Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks, Or to be trailed along the soiling earth.
WORDSWORTH.
One day in September it chanced that the house was left entirely to the womenkind.

Even Asahel had been taken off by his father to help in some light matter which his strength was equal to.

Rufus and Winthrop were on the upland, busy with the fall ploughing; and it fell to little Winifred to carry them their dinner.
The doors stood open, as usual, for it was still warm weather, and the rest of the family were all scattered at their several occupations.

Miss Cadwallader on the bed, asleep; Karen somewhere in her distant premises out of hearing; Elizabeth sat with her book in the little passage-way by the open front door, screened however by another open door from the keeping- room where Mrs.Landholm sat alone at her sewing.

By and by came in Winifred, through the kitchen.