eight o'clock
A clothes-basket at her feet was piled with white garments awaiting the bluing . The tub was full of colored things that were receiving a second rub . Out of doors , on a line stretched between the corner of the kitchen and the high seat of the big farm wagon , flapped the drying sheets and pillow-cases . Breakfast was cleared away , the beds were made , the sitting-room was tidied , and it was not eight o'clock , yet she was nearly done . And while she worked steadily to finish , the boiler on the stove behind her kept time with its clanking cover to the grating tune of her washboard . The little girl no longer had to make use of a three-legged milking-stool in order to reach the tub . Instead , she stood square on the floor .