Old Tom and Nancy

           InthelittleatticroomNancysweptandscrubbedvigorously,payingparticularattentiontothecorners. Thereweretimes,indeed,whenthevigorsheputintoherworkwasmoreofarelieftoherfeelingsthanitwasanardortoeffacedirt—Nancy,inspiteofherfrightenedsubmissiontohermistress,wasnosaint. 

           "I—just—wish—Icould—dig—outthecorners—of—her—soul!"shemutteredjerkily,punctuatingherwordswithmurderousjabsofherpointedcleaning-stick. "There’splentyof‘emneedscleanin’allright,allright! Theideaofstickin’thatblessedchild‘wayoffuphereinthishotlittleroom—withnofireinthewinter,too,andallthisbighouseterpickandchoosefrom! Unnecessarychildren,indeed! Humph!"snappedNancy,wringingherragsohardherfingersachedfromthestrain; "Iguessitain’tCHILDRENwhatisMOSTunnecessaryjustnow,justnow!" 

           Forsometimesheworkedinsilence; then,hertaskfinished,shelookedaboutthebarelittleroominplaindisgust. 

           "Well,it’sdone—mypart,anyhow,"shesighed. "Thereain’tnodirthere—andthere’smightylittleelse. Poorlittlesoul! —aprettyplacethisisterputahomesick,lonesomechildinto!"shefinished,goingoutandclosingthedoorwithabang,"Oh!"sheejaculated,bitingherlip. Then,doggedly:"Well,Idon’tcare. Ihopeshedidhearthebang,—Ido,Ido!" 

           Inthegardenthatafternoon,NancyfoundafewminutesinwhichtointerviewOldTom,whohadpulledtheweedsandshovelledthepathsabouttheplaceforuncountedyears. "Mr.Tom,"beganNancy,throwingaquickglanceoverhershouldertomakesureshewasunobserved; "didyouknowalittlegirlwascomin’hereterlivewithMissPolly?"