Supposin' she had been waited on all her life, and brought up delicately, as Richard said, that was no reason why she need feel so big, and above speaking to a poor girl when she was introduced." She guessed that "Eunice Plympton was fully as respectable and quite as much thought on by the neighbors, if she didn't wear a frock coat and a man's hat with a green feather stuck in it." This was the substance of Eunice's soliloquy, as she cleaned the potatoes for the morrow's breakfast, and laid the kindlings by the stove, ready for the morning fire.

Still Eunice was not a bad-hearted girl, and when Andy, who heard her mutterings, put in a plea for Ethelyn, who he said "had never been so far away from home before, and whose head was aching enough to split," she began to relent, and proposed, of her own accord, to take up to the great lady a foot-bath together with hot water for her head.
It was so long since Richard had been at home, and there was so much to hear of what had happened during his absence that instead of going back to Ethelyn he yielded to his mother's wish that he should stay with her, and sitting down in his arm-chair by the blazing fire, he found it so pleasant to be flattered and caressed and deferred to again, that he was in some danger of forgetting the young wife who was thus left to the tender mercies of Andy and Eunice Plympton.

Andy had caught eagerly at Eunice's suggestion of the foot-bath, and offered to carry it up himself, while Eunice followed with her towels and basin of hot water.
It never occurred to either of them to knock for admittance, and Ethelyn was obliged to endure their presence, which she did at first with a shadow on her brow; but when Andy asked so pleadingly that she try the hot water, and Eunice joined her entreaties with his, Ethelyn consented, and lay very quiet while Eunice Plympton bathed the aching head and smoothed the long, bright hair, which both she and Andy admired so much, for Andy, when he found that Ethelyn declined the foot-bath, concluded to remain a while, and sitting down before the fire, he scrutinized the form and features of his new sister, and made remarks upon the luxuriant tresses which Eunice combed so carefully.
It was something to have the homage of even such subjects as these, and Ethelyn's heart grew softer as the pain gradually subsided beneath Eunice's mesmeric touch, so that she answered graciously the questions propounded by her as to whether that sack, or great-coat, or whatever it was called, which she wore around her, was the very last style, how much it took to cut it, and if Miss Markham had the pattern.

On being told that "Miss Markham" had not the pattern, Eunice presumed Melinda Jones could cut one, and then, while the cooled water was heating on the coals which Andy raked out upon the hearth, Eunice asked if she might just try on the "vasquine" and let Miss Markham see how she looked in it.
For a moment Ethelyn hesitated, but Eunice had been so kind, and proffered her request so timidly, that she could not well refuse, and gave a faint assent.

But she was spared the trial of seeing her basquine strained over Eunice's buxom figure by the entrance of Richard, who came to say that Melinda Jones was in the parlor below.