The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 79 deal tables—there were three of them in the parlour— were so white, that the most fastidious appetite might have eaten off them without either plate or cloth; the six rush-bottomed chairs were equally proper: her home was the poor woman’s world ; indeed, she knew little of what was passing beyond it. For what with the care of her children—and she had three—washing for the family—cooking for them—the latter unfortu- nately at times, a sinecure—her day was entirely employed. When things went badly, and her husband was out of work, she would, to deaden the effects of hunger, and make the young ones forget that it was the dinner hour, propose a set-to—a thorough cleaning out. Here Meg was in her glory —such scrubbing, sluicing, splashing, and rubbing; the children ¢tried to enjoy it, but at times the youngest, a sturdy, curly- headed boy of ten, would rebel, and upset the disci- pline of the establishment, by roaring out lustily for dinner. A tear at such times would glisten in his mother’s eye, as she put him off with a jest, or stuck the little rascal in the corner as a punishment and a warning to his two sisters, who pretended—artful little creatures—not to have the least appetite, and hoped their mother would not interrupt the work by stopping to prepare dinner: to be sure, they were certain, or nearly so, of a tolerably good tea, as a recompense for their patience and labour. The only source of discord in this really happy family was Tim’s affection for birds, rabbits, and all COniiclooecl SS (SO