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 The bud a blossom would become, The flower for fruit is asking; But ye have added up your sum,— Be busy but with basking! Longing’s to parts and portions lent. Unto Completion comes Content.

(Enter Janet.)

Janet (calling)—Elizabeth....Elizabeth....Why, there you are Liz! A fine hunt I have had after you. What have you been doing?....Nothing? You? At this hour of the morning? Hurrah! ’Tisn’t I that am caught this time, is it, Liz? Well, but who can wonder at it, though? Who’s to blame you? Oh, what a morning! The snow so bright up yonder, and the grass so bright down here, and the fresh, fresh sky....But the bread! the bread! I must not forget it.

Eliz.—The bread? Has it risen already?

Janet—Risen? Already? Oh, I like that! Why it sprang to the top of the pan the instant you were out of the kitchen (which is....How long ago is it, eh, Liz?), and I sent Andy out for the rata, stoked up, blew up, and then, as there was still no sign of you,—why, behold, Ma’am, your Complete Family Baker! Jeanie was starting to cry for you, though, and I have those strawberries for the coach, you remember, to gather while the day is still cool. So in with you, O you lazy, loitering, wool-gathering dreamer of dreams, and mistress of a household! and see to your bread and your baby.