The next day most of the sons departed, various duties calling them back. The Rev. Cyril Heath, and Belle, his wife, stayed several weeks, as he could take his vacation more conveniently in the winter than in the summer. Among them all they persuaded two of the sisters to remain likewise, and to Margaret's delight, most of her special pets belonged to these three families.
"I don't like to say it even to you, mamma," said Belle Heath, "but it is a relief to have Frank's children gone. They are so wide-awake, so independent, and so spoiled."
"Their mother tries to do well by them," said Mrs. Grey. "And they are very fond of her. And Frank seems contented enough."
"He may seem so, but I am sure he isn't. Is there nothing can be done to tone Lily up? Couldn't you talk to her, and make her see that she will ruin those children?"
"My dear Belle, no, indeed. Young wives abhor having their mothers-in-law interfere with them."
"But just listen to this. Yesterday Frank, Jr., came rushing in like a mad creature, and rushed up to my poor little Mabel, seized her by the leg, and floored her. Mabel hit her head against a chair, and began to cry.
"'Why, Frank,' said his mother, 'what spirits you have. But it is rude to treat your little cousin in that way. Go and tell her you are sorry.'
"'I won't,' said Frank.
"'Very well, then you shall not dine with me to-day.' Thereupon he set up one of his dreadful shrieks, when Lily said, 'Don't cry; on the whole it won't do to forbid you dining with me, because it would annoy grandma. Ask Aunt Belle if that isn't the case.'
"She looked at me, and I said, 'Lily, dear, don't break your word; for the child's sake, I beg you not.'
'Oh,' she said, 'I spoke impulsively; it will just spoil my lunch if Franky is in disgrace. Belle, I wish you didn't make so much of every trifle.' I said I could not think it a trifle to break one's word."
"I hope Franky did not hear this discussion," interposed Mrs. Grey.
"Not he; the moment Lily let him off as to the matter of dinner he was at his ease, and rushed off into some other piece of mischief. I said a good deal to Lily, and at last, she called Frank and said to him, 'Your aunt thinks you ought to be punished for yournaughty ways; now, if I let you off about the dinner, I shall have to think of some other way of dealing with you. Perhaps I shall use papa's little rod.'
"'Ho, papa's little rod!Youcan't hurt me with it.'
"'Yes, I can, and I shall, too; and now, go away, and play.'
"This morning I reminded her of her threat to the child, and asked her if she had carried it out.
"'Why, no,' she said, 'I couldn't punish a child today for what it did yesterday. He is good and pleasant now, and I couldn't go and pick a quarrel with him.'
"'Oh,neverpick a quarrel with him,' I said, 'but keep your word, Lily.'
"She yawned, and called Franky, who came running up.
"'Here, you young rogue,' she began, 'come and feel the rod I promised you yesterday;' so then they got into a regular frolic together, and he finally wrenched it out of her hand and threw it into the fire."
"Yes," said Mrs. Grey, "that's Lily to the life. But she might be a hundred, yes, a thousand times worse. I had rather see her inefficient and amiable than ever so energetic, but ill-tempered."
"Of course. But the children won't respect her."
"But they'll love her."
Belle sighed. "Frank was always my favoritebrother," she said, "and when he became engaged to Lily, I thought him such a lucky fellow; she was so pretty and so sweet, and seemed so fond of him. But those children. She can do nothing with them."
"Well, Frank makes them obey him."
"But he is able to be with them so little. And you must own, mamma, that it is the mother who moulds the child."
"No, not where both parents live to be joint educators of their children. You do not remember much about your father; but Lily reminds me more of him than any of you do. Nothing would have tempted him to punish you; he would contrive to forget his threats, or laugh them off, and I always thought that as you grew up, you would love him better than you did me, he was so gentle with you."
"Yet, it is the law-giver who is invariably loved the best. Frank's children love him far better than they do their mother."
"Yes; but that is chiefly owing to his loving them so intensely."
"Poor Lily. She is never intense in anything. But she is a dear little thing, and they may all get on together, somehow."
"I think, my dear, it will not be 'somehow'. I think there will be cause and effect. Frank can do more by his pure and thoroughly religious life, than Lily can undo. As the children grow older they willfeel his influence everywhere. It certainly is a fact that in many a home where the mother is amiable, well-disposed, but weak, the father comes to the rescue, becomes the ruling spirit of the house, and his boys and girls turn out good and true men and women."
Belle smiled. "You will never say die," she declared. "I wish I was as sure of my mother-in-law as Lily is of hers. And now I want to talk to you about my own little men and women."
"No wonder. They are charming."
But at this moment several others entered the room, some with babies, some with needlework; they all sat around the library table, by the open fire, making as pleasant a picture as one need desire to see. There was a little desultory conversation; one wanted to learn a particular stitch in knitting, and another taught her. Belle came and looked on, and learned it in half the time.
"Now, Belle," said Laura, "I wish you would teach me the secret of your children's excellent manners. They are as full of spirit as mine, but they are not rude, and mine are. They slam doors, and slide down the banisters, and interrupt me when I am talking."
Here there was a general outcry.
"I neverwouldallow my children to interrupt," said one.
"They all do it, except Belle's children."
"Then all children are disagreeable—and very disagreeable."
"Come, Belle, speak up. How have you contrived it all?"
"There has not been much contrivance about it. There were certain things I made up my mind to have, and I've had them. There were certain other things I wanted to have, but have not, thus far, gained. In other words, I do not consider our household life perfect. We every one of us, father, mother, and children, have our faults and foibles."
"I should hope so," said Laura. "You would be fearfully uninteresting if you never said or did anything but what was prim and proper."
"Oh, as to that, we are not prim, as you very well know."
"What, not when you go on straw-rides? Dear me, I have been black-and-blue ever since you and his Reverence inveigled me into going blackberrying in that style. But come, now; what have you done to your children?"
"I don't know," said Belle, trying to think. "Perhaps they were born with good manners. I never fuss over them; they seem to take to things naturally."
"May I say whatIthink about it?" asked Margaret, coming eagerly forward.
"Yes, do, child," said Mrs. Grey, who had been listening in amused silence to the mixture of fun and earnestness visible in her young folks.
"Mrs. Heath alwaysdoeswhat she wants the children to do; she never tells them to say 'I thank you,' but always thanks them, down to the youngest, whenever she has a chance; she never orders them about, either, but always gives directions kindly; and she never speaks unkindly to them at any time."
"And never slides down the banisters or slams doors," Belle added, right merrily.
By this time Margaret had shrunk back, rather frightened at having spoken out before so many listeners.
"You are right, Margaret," said Mrs. Grey, not a little pleased at the girl's close observation; "emphatically right. In my observation of life, I have seen plenty of illustrations to prove that you are.
"Listen, while I rehearse:
"'John!'
"'Sir!'
"'Go up-stairs and get my slippers.'
"John makes no answer, gets the slippers unwillingly, resumes his book, or whatever work he may be at, and then:
"'John! John Burt!'
"'Sir!'
"'What under the sun did you bring these old slipshods for? I wonder if you ever did an errand right in your life? I never saw such a boy. Take them up-stairs, and get the other pair. And be quick about it, too. I can't sit here in my stocking-feet all night.'
"Or put it thus:
"'John, my boy?'
"'Yes, papa!'
"'I wish you'd trot up-stairs for my slippers?'
"'Yes, papa!'
"'And don't bring the old ones; they're done for; bring the pair Susy worked for me.'
"'Yes, papa, all right.'
"'Ah,thankyou, old fellow! When I am thirteen and you are fifty, I'll do as much for you. How nice it is to have a pair of young legs at one's service!'
"Now, all this may seem small business, but this boy is beingeducatedinto refinement, and courtesy, and kindliness, or the reverse."
"Curiously enough," said Belle, "without having any conscious theory on the subject, I have always acted on this principle with my children."
"Are children, then, mere monkeys, imitating all they see done?" asked Laura.
"They are not," was Mrs. Grey's reply. "Some children are so original that they cannot imitate. They think and act for themselves. They are hardto deal with in most cases, each needing a mother all to itself. But they are the exception, not the rule. Most of us owe almost everything to unconscious influence."
But all serious talk was for the time put an end to, by a curious little incident. One of the nurses entered the room, leading by the hand Laura's baby-girl, who had just learned to walk. Another baby, who had not yet attained this art, was creeping about, picking up and putting into its mouth everything it could find; and no sooner did the older child perceive this, than down it went on all-fours, and began to creep too, to the great amusement of all present.
"How perfectly ridiculous!" said Laura, snatching up and kissing her child.
"'She stooped to conquer,'" said Margaret.
And then followed any amount of youthful talk, and nursery tales from the family urchins. Mrs. Grey's extraordinary memory, where everything they ever said and did was stored up, together with some that, amid no little protest and fun, was warmly challenged.
"I have always wondered," Laura proclaimed at the dinner-table that night, "how I came to be such a charming creature. But in the light of this morning's instructions, I perceive that it is through constant imitation of mamma."
Now as Laura was considered in every way unlike her mother, this sally called forth, as it was intended to do, numerous personalities.
"The resemblance is, indeed, astonishing," said Belle. "For instance, you are punctuality itself."
"Of course," said Laura.
"What unblushing effrontery!" cried Belle.
"And I suppose you never lose money; keep your accounts to a T; can keep a secret—"
"Oh, as to that," said Laura, "I am of too generous a disposition to keep anything. You see it is all owing to the nobility of my character that I have the reputation of being such a leaky vessel that you all turn me out of the room, when anything is going on you don't want the whole town to hear. By the by,mamma, you haven't told me what your next book is to be about?"
"It is to be the history of Mrs. Laura Hosmer,néeGrey," said her mother. "Therein will be set forth all her gifts and graces, her deeds and her misdeeds."
"And a most instructive and entertaining work it will be," cried Laura. "I shall buy up a whole edition to give to my friends, shan't I, baby? Mamma, what a mistake you made in giving me the name you did," she ran gaily on. "All the Lauras one reads about in books are such proper creatures! See Miss Edgworth's stories, for instance. Look at her Lauras. But really, now, whatisyour next book to be?"
Mrs. Grey smiled and shook her head.
"Very well, if you won't tell me, I shan't tell you what mine is to be."
"Yours!" cried everybody, amused and incredulous.
"Oh, I don't see anything to laugh at," protested Laura. "Pray why shouldn't I write books as well as mamma?"
"Mamma didn't begin at your age," said Belle. "She began about as soon as she was born; and so would you if you had inherited her gifts."
"That doesn't follow," said Laura. "And I have hit upon a capital subject! Now just listen." And in an animated way she imparted her secret.
"Itiscapital," said Belle. "But it is foolish toproclaim it. Next news some one will get hold of it and cut you out."
"Yes; I think so, too," said Mrs. Grey. "I shouldn't mind cutting you out myself."
"If you did, it would be your first dishonorable action," said Belle.
The children were all brought in now, and had a frolic till bed-time, when they were escorted off by mammas and nurses, and Mrs. Grey and Margaret were left alone.
"Oh, aunty," said Margaret, as the door closed, "I do wishIhad a baby!"
"I don't see that I can help you to one," was the reply. "But I am glad to see your love for the little folks, and when Belle goes home, I think I can persuade her to leave Mabel with us for a while."
"Oh, she'll never do that. Mabel is such a perfect little darling!"
"I have usually charge of the last robin while a new one is settling into the nest. It keeps me young, and it relieves Belle. In fact, what with one thing and another, there are almost always some of the little ones here."
"I'm so glad! so glad! I shall take the whole care of them."
"And at the same time study, draw, paint, and dabble with a thousand other things?"
"I can study evenings. As to painting—why,aunty, it's nice to paint; but there isn't any picture in the world to be compared to a little live baby!"
"I haven't seen all the pictures in the world," said Mrs. Grey; "but I do not doubt that God makes objects of beauty that man can, at best, only imitate. Margaret, my child, do you know how relieved, how thankful I am, to find this true womanly instinct so strong in you? I have been afraid you might live in the mere gifts of genius you must know you possess, and crowd out the feminine element. But you are safe. A little child shall lead you."
"Why, aunty, I never knew I had any gifts," Margaret whispered.
"There will be plenty of worshippers to tell you so, sooner or later. But I want to impress it upon you, that the greater your gifts the greater your responsibility. Now several paths lie before you. You can devote yourself to art and win a name for yourself, I do not doubt. Or you can choose a literary life, and shine there. And if it were necessary for you to do something for your own support, either of those careers would be honorable. But there is a third vocation in a human sphere open to you. It is to be one of the truest, the best, the most unworldly, most unselfish of women."
"Like you, aunty," said Margaret, her eyes moistening. "I choose your vocation."
They sat silently together after this, until the restof the family joined them; and after a time Laura asked:
"Where is Hatty? Seems to me it takes her an age to get her kittens to bed."
"Something is going wrong with Kitty," explained Belle. "I thought Mabel would never get to sleep, it distressed her so to hear Kitty cry."
"But why should Kitty cry?" asked Mrs. Grey, uneasily. "She appeared to be perfectly well when she went up to bed."
"It's something about saying her prayers," said Belle, reluctantly. "Poor Hatty means right, but I think she makes mistakes."
"That child is crying dreadfully," said Laura, going out into the hall, and listening. "Hatty doesn't know how to manage her. Mamma, do go up and see what the matter is."
Mrs. Grey hesitated. She was not fond of meddling with her sons' wives.
Just then, however, a servant appeared with a message to the effect that "Mrs. George" would like to see her, and she flew up-stairs, alarmed. She found Hatty flushed and excited, standing over Kitty, aged twenty months, fast asleep on the floor, her breast heaving, the tears shining on her lashes.
"Oh, mother, what shall I do? Kitty wouldn't say her prayers, and I said she shouldn't go to bed till she had, and I slapped her arms over and overagain, and she wouldn't yield, but at last dropped to sleep here on the floor. And I've got to leave her here all night, and she'll catch her death of cold. Oh, dear, I wish I'd gone home with Fred. Fred can always conquer her."
"My dear Hatty," said Mrs. Grey, "I am very sorry for you."
There was no reproach in tone or look, but the sincere sorrow of a loving, sympathizing heart, and Hatty, young and inexperienced, burst into tears.
"I never saw such a will," she said, "never."
"She comes honestly by it," was the reply; "and it will be of service by and by. Meantime I would put her into bed, if I were you."
"But that would be breaking my word; and Fred says I mustneverdo that. He says there is a special blessing for him who swears to his own hurt. Oh, my little darling, how can I let you lie on that cold floor all night?"
"It is unfortunate to threaten children. But I believe all do it in their youth and inexperience. In this particular case I think you ought to break your word as to its letter. As to its spirit you do not break it; you certainly never meant to treat this dear little lamb cruelly."
"But suppose I put her to bed, and she remembers what passed between us to-night, shan't I lose my hold on her? Won't she expect to disobey me again?"
"I hardly think this baby-memory will recall to-night's scenes in a definite way. If it does we will devise some way in which to preserve its faith in you. Come, shall I put the little thing to bed? I haven't threatened it, you know."
"Oh, dear, I wish Fred was here. Fred is so particular about having Kitty obedient. He says it is indispensable."
"I am glad to hear it, and glad to know that you two are united in your plans for the child. And now, suppose as you are a little confused as to your duty, we kneel down and get counsel from One who knows how to set you right."
A few simple words followed, and as they rose, the young mother threw her arms around Mrs. Grey's neck, and kissed her.
"How I love you!" she said. "Fred said I should if I stayed long enough to know you. I'm glad I stayed."
And here baby woke up, rubbed her eyes, and smiled.
"Me rested now; me say p'ayer now," she said. "Me was bely tired."
"I thought this was how it would end," said Mrs. Grey. "The little creature was all tired out, not naughty. I am afraid you and I should not like to have our arms slapped when we were too tired to pray."
"I hope I never shall threaten my poor little kitten again," said Hatty, as she tucked the child snugly in its crib. "Why, I am almost ill with the pain I have suffered. But now about to-morrow night? Suppose Kitty forms a habit of refusing to say her prayers?"
"Dear Hatty, the children ofbelievingparents never form habits of disobedience."
"Oh, are you sure of that? I know a number of truly good and faithful parents whose children have turned out badly in every way."
"Investigate the cases and you will find something wrong in the parents. It may be neglect, it may be over-doing; it may be too much will, it may be too little will; I do not know, and unless I can be of service in the matter, do not want to know the history of individual experiences. But when I see a brook muddy, I like to know who stepped in to trouble it, whether man or beast, especially if I am obliged to drink from it."
Hatty smiled. "I rather think it was I who stepped into this brook," she said; "I thought I was acting for Kitty's best good, but perhaps I was as willful, and as resolved to have my own way, as she was. But before you go I want to ask you if we may pray about little things?"
"How little?"
"Well—for instance, what you did just now?"
"My dear Hatty, it is not a little thing to own our human helplessness, and cast ourselves on Divine strength."
"But when it comes to a conflict between a mother and child, a mere baby like Kitzie, ought the Lord of heaven and earth to be expected to interfere?"
"Let us judge Him out of His own mouth. Recall His language as He moved about on earth among just such beings as we are. He says, distinctly, that He feeds the fowls of the air, sees to the growth of the lily of the field, that no sparrow falls to the ground without His notice and consent, and that He takes such personal interest in each of His children that He knows exactly how many hairs we each have in our heads. Can the tenderest mother say anything like this?"
"It is very puzzling."
"No, my dear, it is very simple. It is just taking God at His word. Now, you sent for me, a mere mortal, fallible woman, to sympathize with and help you out of an emergency. Do I then love you better than your Father does? Am I any more ready to come to your rescue than He is?"
"Do you mean, then, that we are not to seek human counsel, but just go to Him about everything?"
"No; I believe also in taking counsel of flesh and blood. The answer to your prayer for light mustcome from God, but He often sends those answers through human agency. And so I am very glad you sent for me to-night. I love to be intrusted with His commissions. And now don't you think we ought to go down and join the rest of them?"
As they entered the library, every one took a hasty glance at their faces, and the tranquil expression of each satisfied what anxiety they had felt. The next day was Sunday, and quite a procession set off for church. Margaret came last of all, leading her beloved little Mabel by the hand. The child had never been to church before, and her mother thought taking her there such a doubtful experiment, that when Margaret proposed it, she demurred a little. Finally, she consented to her occupying a seat whence she could be easily removed, if troublesome. Then she made her stand at her knee, took her hands in hers, and said:
"Mabel, darling, we are all going to God's house, because we love Him, and He wants us to come."
"Yes, mamma."
"And it isn't like other houses; people who go there do not go to talk, and laugh, and play; they go to pray to God, and sing to Him, and hear about Him. And it isn't nice for little children to fidget and whisper while that is being done. And if I let you go to His house this morning, I shall expect you to sit still, and not to say a word."
"Yes, mamma. Will Christ be there?"
This child, through her whole life, invariably spoke of God as Christ.
"Yes, dear, He will be there, and will look at my little Mabel, and know if she is quiet. But you will not see Him; no one does that."
And then turning to Margaret, she said:
"Have you ever taken a little child to church?"
"Oh, no! I wasn't born among such luxuries."
"As a general rule, it is anything but a luxury to break these little colts in. They are accustomed to have liberty of action and of speech at home; they do not understand the services at church, they get tired, they nestle, and, if allowed, will whisper, on an average, once in three minutes. Now, if Mabel whispers to you, take no notice whatever; be lost in attention to what is going on. I lay great stress on this. If my children go to church, they shall not distract me or annoy others."
This reminded Margaret of many and many a scene she had witnessed at church, and supposed, as far as she had thought of it at all, a necessary evil. At first, in full remembrance of what her mother had said, Mabel sat very still, but before long she began to grow tired and restless.
"Is it most done?" she whispered.
Margaret appeared to be deaf, and Mabel repeated the question.
Margaret's deafness increased.
"I'm thirsty," said Mabel.
No answer.
"Doesn't Christ keep any water in His house?"
Here Margaret was tempted to smile, and so open the way for a discussion. But she was true to Mrs. Heath's direction, and presently the child, finding it useless to try to gain attention, gave up the attempt. Now, in most cases, it is the mother herself who is to blame when her little one claims and absorbs her chief attention at church. If she replies to its question, she sets it an example of talking during public worship, an act not to be tolerated, unless a case of illness makes it necessary. And as long as she will listen and reply, the child will vent its restlessness and weariness by incessant whispering. Rather than receive no notice at all, it will call forth such expressions as these:
"Julia, if you don't keep still, you sha'n't come to church. Julia, youmust notget down from your seat. Julia, if you keep up this whispering I can't hear the sermon. You're thirsty? Well, I can't help it. Tired? I told you you would be tired, but you would come. Put down that fan. Don't open my parasol. What a naughty little girl you are!"
On their return from service, Mrs. Heath asked how Mabel had behaved, and Margaret reported things just as they were.
"I learned that scheme of deafness from mamma," said Mrs. Heath. "She never would listen to a word from us at church."
"Fred says she gave him warning one Sunday morning that if he got down from his seat, as he had a trick of doing, she would take him home," said Hatty:
"Yes, Hatty, I remember her doing that, and he never forgot it. Mamma had been an invalid, and unable to attend church, and his nurse used to take Fred, and she let him behave outrageously. It made a sensation, I can tell you, when mamma led him, roaring, down the broad aisle," returned Laura.
After dinner, Mabel was allowed to stretch her limbs by playing with Kitty; then her mother read to her and to the child next in age. Mabel sat with her doll in her arms, but intent on the reading.
"Why,Belle!" said Hatty, who was beginning to get over shyness that had kept her silent hitherto in the family gatherings. "Do you let Mabel have her playthings on Sunday?"
"I never made any laws for my children in regard to Sunday, save this: they should not be noisy on that day, and disturb those who wanted quiet. As soon as they ceased to be mere animals, and began to reason and to imitate, they laid aside their toys on Saturday night of their own accord."
"But Mabel has her doll."
"Yes, she has her baby, and you have yours."
Hatty, in fact, played more with Kitty on Sunday than on any other day in the week, except on nurse's afternoon "out"; for, like most mothers, she had charge of her child in order to let the servants attend church. And she would have thought the Lord a very hard Master if He had denied her this privilege. Mabel, on the other hand, had left off playing on Sunday, though she still allowed herself to hold her baby in her loving little arms. Now, is it likely that He who implanted this maternal instinct begrudged this child the caress she gave her doll?
"I don't think the cases are parallel," objected Hatty. "Imusthave Kitzie, andmustamuse her. My mother locked up all our toys on Saturday night."
"Yes, many mothers do, and pride themselves on it. And so, as children must and will have occupation, they are likely to eat apples, gingerbread, or whatever they can get hold of, to pass away the time. This makes them heavy and ill-natured, and they get to quarrelling."
"But think how strict the old Jewish law was! A man stoned to death for picking up sticks!"
"The world was in its infancy then; and at any rate, He who made the law had His own reasons for it. But we live under a new dispensation, and ours is a Christian, not a Jewish, Sabbath. I have agreat dread of making it a disagreeable day to my children."
"But you can't deny," said Laura, joining the group with her baby, "that there is awful laxity in regard to the Sabbath nowadays."
"No, I do not deny it; there always is reaction after pressure. It is to be hoped that things will right themselves in time."
"Well, I wish the Bible had given explicit directions about everything."
"Hasn't it?"
"No, indeed. Here are you and Hatty, both good souls as ever lived, taking contrary views of so apparently plain a thing as to how to keep Sunday. Now, the promise to those who don't do their own ways, nor find their own pleasure, or speak their own words, staggers me as much as any admonition or threat could. Thousands of Christians will tell you this is their ideal of Sunday; but who lives up to it? Goodness! Think of the worldly talk that has gone on to-day among those who profess to be saints!"
"Now you go too far, Laura," said Belle.
"No, I don't, an atom too far. Didn't I dine, not a month ago, at the Rev. Dr. Enoch Rivers', just after he had preached one of his solemn sermons, and didn't he slip into his luxurious dressing-gown and have his own way in it? And didn't he seek hisown pleasure when he sat down to his roast-beef? And didn't he speak his own words exactly as if it was Monday?"
"And if he had preached while eating his dinner, you would call him a prig. And you surely would not ask him to come to the table in gown and bands! And as to the roast beef, what could be more wholesome?"
But by this time signs of discomfort and weariness began to show themselves in the little Heaths, and though their mother saw fit to be blind and deaf to this at church, she would not neglect them elsewhere. So dropping all further discussion, she turned as she always could, into a bright, animated, live mother, and entertained and interested her little flock, till it was time for tea. Sunday to them meant a great deal of mamma; a good many stories, sweet singing, cheerful faces, and invariably some special indulgence, such as having their bread-and-milk in special silver or special china, and eating with special spoons. No hard tasks were given on this day, such as committing to memory chapters from the Bible, hymns, catechism; it was entire rest.
Mr. and Mrs. Heath wanted their children to love God's day, and respect it, but they shrank from making them dread it as one full of needless restriction, hard tasks, toils, and tears. Nor were they willing toforcethem to spiritual exercises too early, or to incur the hazard of religious disgust by long exhortations.Their aim was so to live the week throughout, as they would have their children, in their measures, live. To the casual spectator, they seemed to do very much less for them than other Christian parents did for theirs. But the fact is, they never lost sight of their best interests, but pursued those interests quietly, persistently, without parade or fuss, and with the deepest possible sense, that under God they would lose or gain everything through them.
Happy are the children that are in such a case.
As the next day was stormy, there was no going out for any one, and everybody seemed to have some special business on hand that kept the groups apart until after lunch, when they all got round the library fire, and Mr. Heath volunteered to read aloud to them. This answered very well for a time, but by degrees the ladies of the party fell into an animated discussion which silenced his voice. Of course the subject was a very important one.
"I never heard of such a thing," said Laura; "mamma, Mag does it all on the right side, andsobeautifully!"
"But it should be done first on the wrong side and then on the right," said Belle.
"Oh, no, all on the wrong side," said Laura.
"Why, no," said Mrs. Grey, "you should pick up the stitches all around, draw the hole partially together, and then fill in—so."
Each was sure she was right, that all the others were wrong, and so they went on, laughing, explaining,exclaiming, and declaiming; the Rev. Mr. Heath looking on amused and puzzled, and wondering on what mighty deed these vivacious creatures were intent.
"How provoking that Cyril cannot act as umpire," said Laura; "but of course he knows nothing about it."
"What is there, pray, that I know nothing about?" he cried.
"Why, how to darn a stocking, to be sure."
"Ah, I have you there," he said, gravely. "Hand me the biggest hole you have."
"As if Icouldhand a hole!"
"Here's one of your own unconscionable hose," said Laura, "with holes as large as oranges. Oh, Cyril, how can you go so? Just suppose you should break your leg sometime, and somebody take off your boot and see such holes!"
"Oh, yes, and suppose when the surgeon comes to set my limb, you refuse to let him approach me lest he should discover my holey habits. There, I defy any of you to mend a hole as quickly as I have just mended this."
The grey stocking was passed from hand to hand and received due disgust from every feminine soul. Mr. Heath had gathered the hole into a hard bunch and tied it with a bit of twine.
"Well, now, I maintain that my way is the only true and proper one," he declared; "it saves time,saves eye-sight, saves yarn, and has the merit of originality."
"Oh, you men!" said Belle. "Mamma, you ought to have seen his clothes when he got home from his last European trip. They were a series of just such bunches, and all his white garments were tied up with black thread, and all the buttons sewed on his coats and pantaloons had been sewed on with white."
While this skirmish was going on, Margaret had finished her work and slipped off to the children. It was Saturday's work, but she had neglected it, and everything else in her absorption in her new delight.
"Where's Mag?" asked Laura, suddenly missing her.
"In the nursery, I'll venture to say," said Mrs. Grey.
"She's a perfect enthusiast about those buntlings," said Mr. Heath.
"So she is about everything," said Mrs. Grey.
"But the last idea, whatever it may be, fills her full, and she can only, by a great struggle with herself, find interest in anything else."
"What an inconvenient character to possess," said Mr. Heath. "It is fortunate for my people that I am not of that sort. Fancy my spending weeks shut up sermonizing, and then forsaking that sort of work, and taking to visiting; and then staying both employments and falling to reading."
"Why, I don't know that it would be so much amiss," said Laura. "You could make up a batch of sermons when the mood was on you, and that care off your mind you could wander round your parish at your own sweet will, and then, as you would have written and talked yourself out, you might, very properly, read yourself up again."
"There's no use in discussing Margaret," said Mrs. Grey. "You can't, any of you, possibly understand her, in this short time."
"But I see no complications or contradictions in her," said Mr. Heath; "and if there are none, why should we not understand her? What I should say of her is this: she is a shy, rather awkward, undeveloped girl, very young in her feelings, and so preferring the society of children to that of grown persons, and will, one of these days, make somebody a nice sort of a wife."
"Oh, you men!" repeated Belle, "you can't see through mill-stones when they have holes in them."
"If you mean by that, that I can't read a feminine at a glance, of course you are right."
"It provokes me to think Harry has so little discrimination," said Laura, "that he might have married a dozen girls whom he would have adored as much as he does me. Men are so queer. They fall in love to-day with black eyes, and are sure they shall never think of any other maidens. And then, tomorrow, its all 'blue eyes, of course.' The fact is, marriage is a mere lottery."
"Oh, for shame, Laura," said Belle; "I am sure Harry never could have been happy without you. You were made for each other. However, you were not in earnest; you never are, so what's the use of arguing with you?"
"Well," returned Laura, "it makes me feel so flat when Cyril reads such a girl as Margaret superficially. Why, that girl is a genius."
Mr. Heath smiled incredulously, but further argument was put an end to by the triumphant entrance of all the children, followed by Margaret. She had been teaching them an exercise it is impossible to describe: it was not a dance, nor yet a romp; but they made as pretty and unique an exhibition as it is possible to imagine, delighted themselves, and delighting the spectators. But as they whirled about the room, there flew out of Mabel's pocket a lump of sugar. The child stopped, blushed, and looked anxiously at her mother, who rose instantly, and led the child to her room.
"Who gave my little Mabel the sugar?" she asked, gently.
Mabel burst into tears.
"I didn't eat it, mamma! I wasn't going to eat it! I was going to give it back, I was."
Mrs. Heath could not doubt the child's sincerity;every tone of her voice said that, plainly. But that she had taken it by stealth, under sudden temptation, was equally clear. She remembered that she had herself placed her, standing on a chair, to regulate a shelf in the nursery closet, an amusement in which she was often indulged at home, and that a bowl of sugar was on this shelf. Now, in the case of her elder children, whose consciences were well aroused, Mrs. Heath did not find it necessary to keep them out of temptation of this sort; but she was usually careful to be watchful over the little ones. She blamed herself, now, for not putting the sugar out of reach, and as Mabel had, apparently, repented of her petty theft, and not eaten the coveted lump, she felt puzzled to know what course to pursue.
At last she said, tenderly, but decidedly, "My little Mabel knew it was wrong to take the sugar, but I am glad she meant to put it back. Never takeanything without leave. And the next time you want a lump of sugar very, very much, don't go and get it, and grieve mamma, and please Satan, but come straight to me and tell me all about it. Very likely I shall give you the lump, for I would rather give you a whole bowlful than have you take the tiniest bit yourself, because God wants all His little girls to be perfectly honest."
After the children were in bed that night, Mrs. Heath sought her mother's council in the matter.
"Ought I to have punished Mabel?" she asked. "It was a difficult case to manage. I cannot doubt her word. She never has shown the slightest disposition to falsehood."
"I think you were wise in doing nothing but give an earnest warning. But I would keep my eye upon her if I were you. You know the tendency to peculate dainties is so inherent in children that the Germans have invented a word for it, a verb, in fact."
"Yes; and this sort of peculation in a child might run into great criminality in an adult. You can't think what pains I have taken to keep the children free from this evil habit."
"One point is to keep them so busy and so happy, that they will not have time to hanker after forbidden dainties. Another is just what I presume you do: show sympathy with them in their frailties; tell them to come and ask for the luxuries they are in danger of appropriating feloniously, and as far as it is good for them, indulge them."
"Yes, I do that; yet isn't there danger of pampering gluttony?"
"No danger that a sensible woman, like you, will do that. You will easily lead the children to despise gluttony. And want of sympathy with them in their youthful longings after good things, will be sure to engender habits of deceit and dishonesty."
"What power the little creatures have to pain us,"said Belle. "Oh, how ithurtme when I saw that bit of sugar! How ithurt!"
"My dear Belle," replied Mrs. Grey, "I considered you a very conscientious child, but you are a far more conscientious woman. Some might think you take this trespass of little Mabel's too much to heart; but I do not think so. If all young mothers looked at sin as you do, our eyes would not be assailed every time we take up our morning journal with the staring words, 'Embezzlement!' 'Fraud!' 'Burglary!' 'Murder!'"
"But, mamma, though my children have had their little faults and foibles, this is the firstdishonorableact I have ever met with among them. There were certain things I was determined to have—obedience and uprightness."
"By uprightness you do not mean perfection?"
"No, I mean by it just what you do: freedom from everything mean and petty; a tendency upward, instead of tendency downward."
"And don't you see that this desire has come from God, and that He has responded to it? Don't you know that your children are wonderful children?"
"Perhaps they are, but I am not sure. They have been free from the temptations to which many others are exposed, because I have just lived in my nursery and kept the peace there. And their father entersinto all my plans for them, and is not only kind—he is positively, and on principle,courteousto them."
"Yes, I see that. And you do not know what a mercy this is. Some men, even good men, as the saying goes, seem to think an imperious, harsh tone to their children, perfectly becoming. I can recall some scenes of discord that it makes me sick to think of. I saw a hand-to-hand fight once, between a father and a boy of fourteen. The latter had got irritable over his Greek; his father, a naturally impatient man, reproved him for it, in a sharp way, and at an unfortunate moment; (it is such a mistake to find fault at an untimely season) and the boy answered back. This called forth a severe reprimand; then came an impertinent reply; then an attempt to box on the boy's ears, which, being nearly as tall and strong as his father, the fellow resisted; then followed a scene which I am afraid is witnessed too often in that spot which ought to be a Paradise, but which ungoverned passion can turn into a hell."
Belle listened in painful silence.
At last she said:
"If my husband were that sort of man; if he so tampered with one of my boys—I should drop dead on the spot. Oh, mamma! do you really think such scenes occur in decent homes?—in homes where children are beloved?"
"Here you come to head-quarters. A happy homeis one where first of all God is loved. Secondly, and as a sequence, where father and mother and children love each other."
"But all parents and children love each other," said Laura, who had just joined them.
"Yes, but there is love and love. Family affection is an instinct; even animals have it. But the sort of love to which I refer is of a higher sort. For instance, you are my child, less than two years of age, say. I caress and pet you. I supply all your wants, we get on admirably together, till some day you refuse to obey a direction I have given you. Now I may know, well enough, that I ought to oblige you to obey me, but I am weak and irresolute and selfish; I say to myself, I love my child too well to punish it; but do I speak the truth?"
"No, you deceive yourself," said Belle.
"Well, here is another method. Suppose I suddenly take you by the shoulders and give you a good shaking, or an angry blow?"
"The case is not supposable," said Laura, who could not be serious half an hour at a time.
"Don't, please, make a jest out of everything," said Belle; "I have got mamma agoing and I want to hear her talk."
"Then let me call Hatty if we are to have a treatise on education," said Laura, who rushed off and brought back her young sister-in-law with great zeal.
"Go on, mamma," said Belle. "We are talking about the way to deal with such little folks as yours, Hatty."
"I was saying," Mrs. Grey went on, "that my little child disobeys me; I may refuse to punish it under the delusion that I love it too well, or I may rudely shake or strike it. Both acts would proceed from selfishness and want of self-discipline. A hasty shake or a hasty blow, means anger, and does not mean love. It means something un-Christ-like, and is, therefore, unholy. Now, there is yet a third course before me. I may refuse to act from impulse, and resolve to act from the principle of love to the child, not its mere emotion."
"Theprinciple of love?" Hatty repeated, in a low voice to herself.
"Yes, my dear. Love, as a principle, can make God its supreme object, while the emotion is, or appears to be, wanting; and this is true of all our earthly relations. Now I love my child better than I do myself, and I am going to hurt myself for its sake. Itmustlearn obedience for its own sake. Therefore, whenever it opposes its will to mine, some penalty shall invariably follow."
"What, for instance?" asked Hatty, eagerly.
"Oh, there can be no one rule. The gentler the punishment the better, if the object desired is gained. We are dealing now with a child under two years ofage. The tender little creature will not need the thunder of the law. Put it in a corner; seat it in a chair apart from the rest; it may be safe to shut it up in a closet, but it may not be; it depends on whether it is of a timid or a courageous character. The point is to make it aware that it is under law. With some natures this is easily taught."
"But what of a very willful one?" asked Hatty.
"Such a child will greatly tax parental faith and patience," was the reply. "But it will yield to wise, unselfish, Christian determination; and its strong will, once disciplined, may become one of its most serviceable characteristics."
"Would you use a rod?"
"What, on a little child? No."
"Hatty meant a metaphorical rod, I think," said Belle.
"Yes, I did. I mean should one slap a child's hands?"
"It depends upon the character of the mother, and on that of the child. There is no one rule for all parties. Children ought not to need corporeal punishment after they are two or three years old; and if properly managed, I doubt if they need it at all. But you see, my dear girls, that before a young father and mother are fit to train children they must be disciplined themselves. Pain should be inflicted by them without ill-temper, without hasty impulse,and in tender love. Children should know that love lies at the bottom of all parental law, and is its foundation."
"Doesn't it seem strange," asked Hatty, "that God commits children to such youthful hands? Why, how we blunder our way along! I have always heard that the eldest child had the hardest time in the family—the object of all sorts of experiments and mistakes."
"The eldest child certainly has that disadvantage," said Mrs. Grey; "and it has also the added disadvantage of entering the world with characteristics that children born later may possess but in a mellowed form. On the other hand, the first-born gets most from its parents as its birthright. Belle, here, has had a mother thirty years; but Fred has had one only twenty-two."
"How funny!" said Laura.
"Oh, dear! nothing looks funny to me," said Hatty, with a sigh. "Kitzie is so headstrong, and I am such a young little mother, and know so little how to manage her! And Fred can't endure spoiled children."
"Why, Hatty, you are not spoiling Kitty," Mrs. Grey said, with some surprise.
"Are you sure? Oh, but you don't see me at my worst! I'm on my good behavior when I'm here, trying to make you all love me. But devoted as Iam to Kitty, living among you all here has made me see my own faults as I never did before. She often provokes me so that I want to do something awful—something one of my teachers did to me when I was specially naughty."
"What was that, pray?" asked Laura.
"Look daggers at her!" Hatty reluctantly replied.
"If you take lessons from my mother, you'll look milk and honey, not daggers," said Laura. "Dear me! do you know how late it is? Consider yourselves kissed, all around, for I'm off to bed." And singing like a bird, Laura hopped away to her room, hung lightly, for an instant, over her sleeping child, and was soon asleep, not much more than a child herself.
This was the last family council, for the time—as Fred grew "wife and child sick," as he expressed it, and came and bore them away in triumph; and the Heaths, and Laura and her babies, soon followed. Little Mabel alone remained, without a fear on Belle's part that grandmamma would over-feed, or spoil, or neglect her darling—who, for her part, was content to stay with Margaret, between whom and herself there had sprung up a beautiful friendship.
Before Fred bore away his household gods, he sought a private interview with his mother, eager to know what she thought of them; for immediately on his marriage he had taken his wife abroad, and this was the first time she and his child had come under her roof.
"I think you a lucky fellow, young man," she said, good-humoredly. "Hatty is coming into full sympathy with us, and has in her the makings of a very fine woman, as Mrs. Goodwin once said of her Sophie. I suppose you do not expect anything more from me than this?"
"Now, mother, this isn't fair," he remonstrated. "I never pretended that she was equal to you, or to the girls; but she has a great deal of character, and yet is very impressible. I can wind her round my finger like a piece of silk."
"She's much more likely to wind you round hers. She has a will of iron. But I do not object to that."
"Indeed you wouldn't if you could see her bear pain. Oh, you'll love her to distraction when you come to know her as well as I do. Poor little thing, how she did dread running the gauntlet of all you keen-eyed, cultivated women!"
"You ought to have spared her that. You know we never pick flaws in each other. Why, Fred, I expect, in time, to love Hatty just about as I love you. But you know my affections move slowly."
"I know I never saw anyone whose affections move with more rapidity," laughed Fred. "But I suppose a mother never finds a paragon worthy of her son."
"Oh, as to that, I consider Hatty quite your equal, if not your superior. In fact, her greatest fault is one she will outgrow."
"And what is that?"
"Youth. She stepped out of school into a nursery; she has had no liberty, no stopping-place between girlhood and motherhood. I cannot imagine how her mother could permit her to marry so young, poor child."
"Her mother could tell you the reason," said Fred, with a good-humored smile that had in it just the least touch of complacency.
"Well, the thing is done, at any rate. And now, my dear boy, I charge you to make allowance for Hatty, if, amid the wear and tear of domestic life, she falls below the ideal you now make of her. Depend upon it, there are no ideal characters on earth."
"Well, isn't Kitty a perfect beauty?"
"She is very pretty."
"Is that all you have to say? In my eyes, she is the most beautiful child on earth. But as to her behavior, I can't say I have anything to boast of. She is a little fury when she is provoked."
"Strange, isn't it?" said Mrs. Grey.
"But, mother, I have outgrown all that sort of thing. And it is provoking to see one's faults repeated in one's child. But you may depend upon it, we are not going to spoil Kitty. Her mother fights her out on every line of battle."
"But be cautious, Fred. This little human flower must expand elsewhere than on a battle-field. You can't begin too soon to let her see that intense, unselfish love lies at the bottom of all restraint and correction. You and Hatty are both, by nature, law-givers, and I do not doubt you will have a family of obedient children, as you ought to do. But think of the goodness as well as the severity of God, when you discipline your child. Never enter upon a conflict with her without asking Him how to proceed; in this way you will avoid a thousand mistakes."
Fred colored and looked embarrassed. It had not occurred to him that a grown-up man was not quite equal to the task of training a little child; on the contrary, he had rather prided himself on his skill.
"To go back to Hatty," he said, "she is perfectly wild about you."
"Well, then, if you have failed to find me as enthusiastic about your little wife as you hoped to do, I may as well own here that I am not fond of having people 'perfectly wild' about me. It can't last. I am no angel; and it isn't pleasant to be soaked in hot water one day, and left to freeze the next. Just as soon as Hatty will let me get off the throne on which she has placed me, and seat myself on the every-day chair on which I belong, I shall love her and enjoy her love as I can't do now, when I have a mean sort of feeling that she is giving more than she gets, and that I am taking more than I deserve. Now the murder is all out, and we can start a little more fairly and squarely than we did at first."
Fred smiled and took the frank hand his mother offered him in both his.
"I wouldn't own Hatty if she did not admire my mother," he said. "And do you think there is a fair prospect of Kitty's turning out well at last?"
"Yes, my dear boy, if you will lay to heart the counsel of your mother, and part with all pride and self-reliance, and rely on Divine strength alone. Oh, that I had realized this in the early years of my married life, and taken counsel of God at every step!"
"I don't see but we must go home and reconstruct our domestic life," said Fred. "We were young and strong, and of one mind; we were resolved to have an obedient child, at any cost; and of course we have prayed for her; but I am afraid not specifically enough."
"Kitty is not a common child, and I dare say will cost you a great deal. I would make just as few laws for her as possible, and train her to obedience by long patience. Never threaten her, never fight with her, never strike her."
"Never fight with her! Why, mother, she disputes every inch of ground. Wehaveto fight with her. And as to whipping her, why, I thought you believed in the rod?"
"In some cases I do, but not in Kitty's. She has such a strong character that you might, sometime, whip her to death."
"She gets fortitude from her mother," said Fred. "What are we to do with her, then?"
"Punish her, invariably, for every act of disobedience, and let the matter rest there."
"What, let her have her own way? Why, mother,I know grand-parents generally do grow lax as they advance in years, but I did not expect it of you. Oh, you forget what rebels some of us were."
"No, my son, I do not forget. I look at life differently from what I once did. I know that, mingled with some high principle, I had pride, self-reliance, and self-will in the management of my children, and now I want you all to have the benefit of my experience. You may depend upon it, there are times when a wise parent must make humbling concessions to a proud, excited child, when it is acting its worst self."
"Well, now, suppose I tell Kitty to say 'Please,' and she won't, what am I to do?"
"You might threaten to whip her till she said it, and she become so tired out as to be utterly unable to utter the word. Parents are continually making mistakes of this sort. A child has not always control of its tongue. Doesn't yours sometimes cleave to the roof of your mouth? And there is another thing, Kitzie is shy. What it would cost an ordinary child no effort to do, might be torture to her; you must be careful what you direct her to do, lest you should demand something she cannot perform. I once knew a timid girl of ten years, attempt to slip out of a room full of company unobserved. When her mother called her back to bid the party good-night she came directly, but blushing painfully, and the words she tried toutter died on her lips. Her mother was a strict disciplinarian, and thought it her duty to say, 'You cannot go to bed till you have obeyed me.' The child stood there a long, long time, weeping bitterly; she was not disobedient in her habits, she was tired, she longed to get out of sight of those astonished eyes; but the words would not come. At last, ready to drop with fatigue, she shrieked them out, and was allowed to creep to bed, with a sense of being the naughtiest girl in the world. Ah, Fred, let no careless word tamper with the delicate, complicated machinery of your child's soul."
"I shall go home a wiser, but a sadder man," said Fred. "I never realized before that the work of training up a child is such anawfultask."
"It is only awful when undertaken by a fool or a knave. You will find, as other children come to you, that rules that apply to one, fail in regard to another. What I have advised in regard to Kitzie, may not apply in the least to your Fred, Jr., when you get that young man."
Fred Grey was worth all he had cost his mother, for his was a strong, thoughtful character. And all that she had now said to him impressed him, as it did his wife, when he repeated it to her. Poor little baby Kitty never had another battle with her resolute young parents; yet day by day she was learning obedience; day by day they were learning humility andself-control. Their love to each other and to their child grew purer and sweeter, and co-operating together in all their plans for her, her lot bid fair to be a most enviable one.
Mrs. Grey and Margaret had plenty of work on their hands after quiet once more settled down upon them. Letters and cards had accumulated, and must be attended to; there were protégés to look after; there was Mabel to love and to watch and to care for. And, as readers ought to know by intuition, but young Master Accuracy declares they do not, there was Mrs. Grey's new book on the stocks, and which the Christmas festivities had brought to a stand-still.