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, and _so_ beautifully!"
"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 I _could_ hand 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 take _any_ thing 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 it _hurt_ me when I saw that bit of sugar! How it _hurt_!"
"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 first _dishonorable_ act 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 enters into
all my plans for them, and is not only kind--he is positively, and on
principle, _courteous_ to 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 home is 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."
"The _principle 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. It _must_ learn 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 of age. 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 I am 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.