But this becoming deference to her experience , on the part of the young mother , was so irresistible , that after a short affectation of humility , she began to enlighten her with the best grace in the world ; and , sitting bolt upright before the wicked Dot , she did , in half an hour , deliver more infallible domestic recipes and precepts than would -LRB- if acted on -RRB- have utterly destroyed and done up that Young Peerybingle , though he had been an Infant Samson . To change the theme , Dot did a little needlework -- she carried the contents of a whole workbox in her pocket ; however she contrived it , I do n't know -- then did a little nursing ; then a little more needlework ; then had a little whispering chat with May , while the old lady dozed ; and so in little bits of bustle , which was quite her manner always , found it a very short afternoon . Then , as it grew dark , and as it was a solemn part of this Institution of the Picnic that she should perform all Bertha 's household tasks , she trimmed the fire , and swept the hearth , and set the tea-board out , and drew the curtain , and lighted a candle . Then she played an air or two on a rude kind of harp , which Caleb had contrived for Bertha , and played them very well ; for Nature had made her delicate little ear as choice a one for music as it would have been for jewels , if she had had any to wear . By this time it was the established hour for having tea ; and Tackleton came back again to share the meal , and spend the evening . Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before , and Caleb had sat down to his afternoon 's work . But he could n't settle to it , poor fellow , being anxious and remorseful for his daughter . It was touching to see him sitting idle on his working stool , regarding her so wistfully , and always saying in his face , `` Have I deceived her from her cradle , but to break her heart ? '' When it was night , and tea was done , and Dot had nothing more to do in washing up the cups and saucers ; in a word -- for I must come to it , and there is no use in putting it off -- when the time drew nigh for expecting the Carrier 's return in every sound of distant wheels , her manner changed again , her colour came and went , and she was very restless . Not as good wives are when listening for their husbands . No , no , no . It was another sort of restlessness from that . Wheels heard . A horse 's feet . The barking of a dog . The gradual approach of all the sounds . The scratching paw of Boxer at the door ! `` Whose step is that ? '' cried Bertha , starting up . `` Whose step ? ''
returned the Carrier , standing in the portal , XXXXX his brown face ruddy as a winter berry from the keen night air .
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