Mrs. Podgers' Teapot. Louisa May Alcott
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laugh there was a pause, during which Mrs. Podgers sat absently polishing up the silver cherub, with the memory of the little son who died two Christmases ago lying heavy at her heart, and Mr. 'Rusalem seemed to be turning something over in his mind as he watched a bit of butter sink luxuriously into the warm bosom of a muffin. Once or twice he paused as if listening. Several times he stole a look at Mrs. Podgers and presently said, in a somewhat anxious tone:
"You was saying just now that you was a deal too comfortable in order to realize your blessings?"
"Yes, I should. I'm getting lazy, selfish, and forgetful of other folks. You leave me nothing to do and make everything so easy for me that I'm growing young and giddy again. Now that isn't as it should be, 'Rusalem."
"It meets my views exactly, Mum. You've had your hard times, your worriments and cares, and now it's right to take your rest."
"Then why don't you take yours? I'm sure you've earned it drudging thirty years in the store, with more extra work than holidays for your share."
"Oh well, Mum, it's different with me, you know. Business is amusing; and I'm so used to it I shouldn't know myself if I was out of the store for good."
"Well, I hope you are saving up something against the time when business won't be amusing. You are so generous, I'm afraid you forget you can't work for other people all your days."
"Yes, Mum, I've put a little sum in a safe bank that pays good interest, and when I'm past work, I'll fall back and enjoy it."
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