eight o'clock
The baby-girl pulls my hair , and would take to sucking again , while Armand stands guard over my breast , as though defending his property . Their funny ways , their peals of laughter , are too much for me , and put sleep fairly to flight . Then we play the ogress game ; mother ogress eats up the white , soft flesh with hugs , and rains kisses on those rosy shoulders and eyes brimming over with saucy mischief ; we have little jealous tiffs too , so pretty to see . It has happened to me , dear , to take up my stockings at eight o'clock and be still bare-footed at nine ! Then comes the getting up . The operation of dressing begins . I slip on my dressing-gown , turn up my sleeves , and don the mackintosh apron ; with Mary 's assistance , I wash and scrub my two little blossoms .