Turning to Abigail, she suggested that she put out of doors the rocking-chair and small table. The Bible and work-basket and mother’s reel might go into mother’s room. Perhaps the peddler would help her move the settles out on the grass. Mary Jane herself knelt down on the hearth to take up the ashes. The peddler jumped up. “Willing hands make light work, Mistress Mary, and out go the tables and the chairs. Back again! and now, my dears, we are ready for the old settles. Came from the sturdy land of England, these did.” Mary Jane frowned and settled her cap with dignity. “I like not too much talk. If we save our breath it will help in the lifting. Be careful of the door, please, I would not have the wood scarred.” “Clear the ways, my hearties,” the peddler called, not seeming to be disturbed by Mary Jane’s dignified words, “I’m the man for that job. Up you get, Mistress Mary, and down goes Jake, the indigo peddler. I can holystone a deck, why not brush up the ashes?” Mary Jane looked doubtfully at her helper, but she soon admitted that he used the shovel and the turkey wing with a neat hand. Father said that it was often more generous to accept help than to give it, and so thinking, she turned to other work. [Illustration: Figure 14. Kettle] Directing Dorothy to take one kettle and Abigail the other, Mary Jane started them to cleaning the woodwork. There was plenty of hot water in the big pot which had been hanging on the crane, and there were soft soap and stout cloths. The girls were careful not to waste the soap, but they hunted for every speck and streak of dirt. Having answered a call from her mother, Mary Jane came back to the kitchen, bright-eyed, but demure. Mother had said that she wished Abigail to wash up the bricks in the fireplace, and Mary Jane would clean the windows. Master Jake had helped them generously, but they could finish up the rest of the work alone, their mother thought. [Illustration: Figure 15. Swinging Crane] “Just as the Mistress says. I’ll be off. Indigo has gone a-begging this morning, but perhaps I can sell some cochineal up the road. Good-day and the Lord bless ye!” So saying the old man bent to his pack and trudged away. Abigail stood and pondered. She was mischievously interested in the change of plan. Mary Jane generally washed out the fireplace. “What does it mean, Dorothy? Dost think John Lewis would notice if Mary Jane’s hands were smutted and grimy?” “Methinks ’tis best for us to stop talking and get to our work. Mother would have Mary Jane make a good impression. Mary Jane is comely, and John Lewis is not a-courting _us_.” Dorothy’s reproof was gently made, and she smiled at Abigail.