"It is not requisite to a cure," said I. "Only let your thought and
purpose fall into the sphere of home. Think of your husband as one
to be made happier by your personal control of such household
matters as touch his comfort; of your babes as tender, precious
things, blessed by your sleepless care, or hurt by your neglect; of
your domestics, as requiring orderly supervision, lest they bring
discord into your home, or waste your substance. Every household,
Delia, is a little government, and the governor must be as watchful
over all its concerns as the governor of a state. Take, then, the
reins of office firmly into your hands, dispose of everything
according to the best of your judgment, and require orderly
obedience from every subject. But act wisely and kindly. Do this, my
young friend, and you will not be troubled with the fashionable
complaint--ennui."
"That is, sink down into a mere housekeeper," she remarked; "weigh
out the flour, count the eggs, fill the sugar bowls, and grow
learned in cookery-books. I think I see myself wandering about from
cellar to garret, jingling a great bunch of keys, prying into
rubbish-corners, and scolding lazy cooks and idle chambermaids!"
She laughed a short, artificial laugh, and then added--
"Is that the picture of what you mean, Doctor?"
"It is the picture of a happier woman than you are, Delia," said I,
seriously.
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