Poor thing, she may well look forward to Heaven," added my tutor, whose kind heart was very sore on this subject, "and it's a blessed thought how it will make up, even for such a life here!" "What will make it up to the donkeys ?" I asked, taking Mr.Clerke at a disadvantage on that standing subject of dispute between us--a "better world" for beasts.
But my tutor only said, "My dear Regie, you _do_ say _the_ most _sin_gular things!" which, as I pointed out, was no argument, one way or another.
Meanwhile, through Mrs.Bundle, we did our best for Robin's wife and certain other ill-treated women about the place.

Mrs.Bundle could be very severe on the dirt and discomfort which "drove some men to the public as would stay at home if there was a clean kitchen to stay in, and less of that nagging at a man and screaming after children as never made a decent husband nor a well-behaved child yet." Yet in certain cases of undeserved brutality, like Robin's, I fear she sometimes counselled resistance, on the principle that it "couldn't make him do worse, and might make him do better." I am sure that my father had never thought of Mrs.Bundle acting as sick nurse in the village; but matters seemed to develop of themselves.

She was so experienced and capable that she could hardly fail to smoothe the disordered bed-clothes, open the window, clear the room of the shiftless gossips who flocked like ravens to predict death, and take the control of mismanaged sick-rooms.

It came to be a common thing that some wan child should present itself at our door with the message that "Missis Bundle she wants her things, for as mother be so bad, she says she'll see her over the night." As for herself, I doubt if she had ever been happier in her life.

Her conscience was at ease, for she certainly worked hard enough for her wages, and it was good to see the glow of pleasure that an oft-repeated remark of my father's never failed to bring over her honest face.
"Don't overwork yourself, Mrs.Bundle.What should we do if you were laid up ?".