She helped herself by contrasting her lot with that of hundreds of women whose life was so much harder—who had half a dozen little children about therr busy feet, and perhaps half a dozen rough men for whom to cook and clean.  She knew what therr homes were like—comfortless, rough, and bare, with neither daintiness nor convenience.  She had every labour-saving device that Tom could procure her: they had nothing but such primitive arrangements as their grandmothers had had when the country was new.  They worked early and late and grew old and worn-out long before their time; but still, they worried along, and reared their swarm of babies into tall men and women, a credit to their country: and they were happy, and would not change their lot, so long as the babies lived, and the husband was kind.  She felt herself a butterfly beside them—even when she looked at her roughened hands, stained with earth, and contrasted them with the memory of the pink nails she used to manicure in the "House Beautiful."