Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

The light of the cheerful fire shone on the rug and carpet of a cozy parlor, and glittered on the sides of the teacups and well-brightened teapot, as Senator Bird was drawing off his boots, preparatory to inserting his feet in a pair of new handsome slippers, which his wife had been working for him while away on his senatorial tour. Mrs. Bird, looking the very picture of delight, was superintending the arrangements of the table, ever and anon mingling admonitory remarks to a number of frolicsome juveniles, who were effervescing in all those modes of untold gambol and mischief that have astonished mothers ever since the flood.

"Tom, let the doorknob alone -- there's a man! Mary! Mary! don't pull the cat's tail -- poor pussy! Jim, you mustn't climb on that table -- no, no! -- You don't know, my dear, what a surprise it is to us all, to see you here tonight! " said she, at last, when she found a space to say something to her husband.