She stood for a minute beside the bed, with both hands pressed against her back, and made certain that the daily tasks would be attended to.
"You will give the men their food, Maria, and your father will lend you a hand at milking the cows if you wish it.

I am not good for anything this morning." "It will be all right, mother; it will be all right.

Take it quietly; we shall have no trouble." For two days she kept her bed, with a watchful eye over everything, directing all the household affairs.
"Don't be in the least anxious," her husband urged again and again.
"There is hardly anything to be done in the house beyond the cooking, and Maria is quite fit to look after that--everything else too, by thunder! She is not a little child any longer, and is as capable as yourself.

Lie there quietly, without stirring; and be easy in your mind, instead of tossing about all the time under the blankets and making yourself worse...." On the third day she gave up thinking about the cares of the house and began to bemoan herself.
"Oh my God!" she wailed.

"I have pains all over my body, and my bead is burning.