don't think it will do any good;' and mamma shook her head as if Aunt
Betsey's plan was a wild one.
The children sat quiet, speechless with surprise at this singular
proposal, but as its full richness dawned upon them, they skipped in
their chairs and clapped their hands delightedly.
'How do you propose to carry out this new educational frolic?' asked
papa, beginning to feel some curiosity as to the part he was to play.
'Merely let the children do as they like for one day and have full power
over you. Let them plan your duties and pleasures, order your food, fix
your hours, and punish or reward you as they think proper. You must
promise entire obedience, and keep the agreement till night.'
'Good! good! Oh, won't it be fun!' cried Harry and Kitty, applauding
enthusiastically; while papa and mamma looked rather sober as the plan
was developed before them.
'To-morrow is a holiday for us all, and we might celebrate it by this
funny experiment. It will amuse us and do no harm, at any rate,' added
aunty, quite in love with her new scheme.
'Very well, we will. Come, mamma, let us promise, and see what these
rogues will do for us. Playing father and mother is no joke, mind you;
but you will have an easier time of it than we do, for _we_ shall behave
ourselves,' said papa, with a virtuous expression.
Mamma agreed, and the supper ended merrily, for every one was full of
curiosity as to the success of the new play. Harry and Kitty went to
bed early, that they might be ready for the exciting labors of the next
day. Aunt Betsey paid each a short visit before they slept, and it is
supposed that she laid out the order of performances, and told each what
to do; for the little people would never have thought of so many sly
things if left to themselves.
At seven the next morning, as mamma was in her dressing-room, just
putting on her cool, easy wrapper, in came Kitty with a solemn face,
though her eyes danced with fun, as she said,--
'Careless, untidy girl! Put on a clean dress, do up your hair properly,
and go and practise half an hour before breakfast.'
At first mamma looked as if inclined to refuse, but Kitty was firm; and,
with a sigh, mamma rustled into a stiff, scratchy, French print, took
her hair out of the comfortable net, and braided it carefully up; then,
instead of reading in her arm-chair, she was led to the parlor and set
to learning a hard piece of music.
'Can't I have my early cup of tea and my roll?' she asked.
'Eating between meals is a very bad habit, and I can't allow it,' said
Kitty, in the tone her mother often used to her. 'I shall have a mug of
new milk and a roll, because grown people need more nourishment than
children;' and sitting down, she ate her early lunch with a relish,
while poor mamma played away, feeling quite out of tune herself.
Harry found papa enjoying the last delightful doze that makes bed so
fascinating of a morning. As if half afraid to try the experiment, the
boy slowly approached and gave the sleeper a sudden, hard shake, saying
briskly,--
'Come, come, come, lazy-bones! Get up, get up!'
Papa started as if an earthquake had roused him, and stared at Harry,
astonished for a minute, then he remembered, and upset Harry's gravity
by whining out,--
'Come, you let me alone. It isn't time yet, and I am _so_ tired.'
Harry took the joke, and assuming the stern air of his father on such
occasions, said impressively,--
'You have been called, and now if you are not down in fifteen minutes
you won't have any breakfast. Not a morsel, sir, not a morsel;' and,
coolly pocketing his father's watch, he retired, to giggle all the way
downstairs.
When the breakfast bell rang, mamma hurried into the dining-room,
longing for her tea. But Kitty sat behind the urn, and said gravely,--
'Go back, and enter the room properly. Will you never learn to behave
like a lady?'
Mamma looked impatient at the delay, and having re-entered in her most
elegant manner, sat down, and passed her plate for fresh trout and
muffins.
'No fish or hot bread for you, my dear. Eat your good oatmeal porridge
and milk; that is the proper food for children.'
'Can't I have some tea?' cried mamma, in despair, for without it she
felt quite lost.
'Certainly not. _I_ never was allowed tea when a little girl, and
couldn't think of giving it to you,' said Kitty, filling a large cup for
herself, and sipping the forbidden draught with a relish.
Poor mamma quite groaned at this hard fate, but meekly obeyed, and ate
the detested porridge, understanding Kitty's dislike to it at last.
Harry, sitting in his father's chair, read the paper, and ate everything
he could lay his hands on, with a funny assumption of his father's
morning manner. Aunt Betsey looked on much amused, and now and then
nodded to the children as if she thought things were going nicely.
Breakfast was half over when papa came in, and was about to take Harry's
place when his son said, trying vainly to look grave as he showed the
watch,--
'What did I tell you, sir? You are late again, sir. No breakfast, sir.
I'm sorry, but this habit _must_ be broken up. Not a word; it's your own
fault, and you must bear the penalty.'
'Come, now, that's hard on a fellow! I'm awful hungry. Can't I have just
a bite of something?' asked papa, quite taken aback at this stern
decree.
'I said not a morsel, and I shall keep my word. Go to your morning
duties and let this be a lesson to you.'
Papa cast a look at Aunt Betsey, that was both comic and pathetic, and
departed without a word; but he felt a sudden sympathy with his son, who
had often been sent fasting from the table for some small offence.
Now it was that he appreciated aunty's kind heart, and felt quite fond
of her, for in a few minutes she came to him, as he raked the gravel
walk (Harry's duty every day), and slipping a nice, warm, well-buttered
muffin into his hand, said, in her motherly way,--
'My dear, do try and please your father. He is right about late rising,
but I can't bear to see you starve.'
'Betsey, you are an angel!' and turning his back to the house, papa
bolted the muffin with grateful rapidity, inquiring with a laugh, 'Do
you think those rogues will keep it up in this vigorous style all day?'
'I trust so; it isn't a bit overdone. Hope you like it!' and Aunt Betsey
walked away, looking as if _she_ enjoyed it extremely.
'Now put on your hat and draw baby up and down the avenue for half an
hour. Don't go on the grass, or you will wet your feet; and don't play
with baby, I want her to go to sleep; and don't talk to papa, or he will
neglect his work,' said Kitty, as they rose from table.
Now, it was a warm morning and baby was heavy and the avenue was dull,
and mamma much preferred to stay in the house and sew the trimming on to
a new and pretty dress.
'Must I really? Kitty you are a hard-hearted mamma to make me do it,'
and Mrs. Fairbairn hoped her play-parent would relent.
But she did not, and only answered with a meaning look.
'_I_ have to do it every day, and _you_ don't let me off.'
Mamma said no more, but put on her hat and trundled away with fretful
baby, thinking to find her fellow-sufferer and have a laugh over the
joke. She was disappointed, however, for Harry called papa away to weed
the lettuce-bed, and then shut him up in the study to get his lessons,
while he mounted the pony and trotted away to town to buy a new
fishing-rod and otherwise enjoy himself.
When mamma came in, hot and tired, she was met by Kitty with a bottle in
one hand and a spoon in the other.
'Here is your iron mixture, dear. Now take it like a good girl.'
'I won't!' and mamma looked quite stubborn.
'Then aunty will hold your hands and I shall make you.'
'But I don't like it; I don't need it,' cried mamma.
'Neither do I, but you give it to me all the same. I'm sure you need
strengthening more than I do, you have so many "trials,"' and Kitty
looked very sly as she quoted one of the words often on her mother's
lips.
'You'd better mind, Carrie; it can't hurt you, and you know you promised
entire obedience. Set a good example,' said aunty.
'But I never thought these little chits would do so well. Ugh, how
disagreeable it is!' And mamma took her dose with a wry face, feeling
that Aunt Betsey was siding with the wrong party.
'Now sit down and hem these towels till dinner-time. I have so much to
do I don't know which way to turn,' continued Kitty, much elated with
her success.
Rest of any sort was welcome, so mamma sewed busily till callers came.
They happened to be some little friends of Kitty's, and she went to them
in the parlor, telling mamma to go up to nurse and have her hair brushed
and her dress changed, and then come and see the guests. While she was
away Kitty told the girls the joke they were having, and begged them to
help her carry it out. They agreed, being ready for fun and not at all
afraid of Mrs. Fairbairn. So when she came in they all began to kiss and
cuddle and praise and pass her round as if she was a doll, to her great
discomfort and the great amusement of the little girls.
While this was going on in the drawing-room, Harry was tutoring his
father in the study, and putting that poor gentleman through a course of
questions that nearly drove him distracted; for Harry got out the
hardest books he could find, and selected the most puzzling subjects. A
dusty old history was rummaged out also, and classical researches
followed, in which papa's memory played him false more than once,
calling forth rebukes from his severe young tutor. But he came to open
disgrace over his mathematics, for he had no head for figures, and, not
being a business man, had not troubled himself about the matter; so
Harry, who was in fine practice, utterly routed him in mental arithmetic
by giving him regular puzzlers, and when he got stuck offered no help,
but shook his head and called him a stupid fellow.
The dinner-bell released the exhausted student, and he gladly took his
son's place, looking as if he had been hard at work. He was faint with
hunger, but was helped last, being 'only a boy,' and then checked every
five minutes for eating too fast. Mamma was very meek, and only looked
wistfully at the pie when told in her own words that pastry was bad for
children.
Any attempts at conversation were promptly quenched by the worn-out old
saying, 'Children should be seen, not heard,' while Harry and Kitty
chattered all dinner-time, and enjoyed it to their hearts' content,
especially the frequent pecks at their great children, who, to be even
with them, imitated all their tricks as well as they could.
'Don't whistle at table, papa;' 'keep your hands still mamma;' 'wait
till you are helped, sir;' 'tuck your napkin well in, and don't spill
your soup, Caroline.'
Aunt Betsey laughed till her eyes were full, and they had a jolly time,
though the little people had the best of it, for the others obeyed them
in spite of their dislike to the new rules.
'Now you may play for two hours,' was the gracious order issued as they
rose from table.
Mamma fell upon a sofa exhausted, and papa hurried to read his paper in
the shady garden.
Usually these hours of apparent freedom were spoilt by constant
calls,--not to run, not to play this or that, or frequent calls to do
errands. The children had mercy, however, and left them in peace; which
was a wise move on the whole, for the poor souls found rest so agreeable
they privately resolved to let the children alone in their play-hours.
'Can I go over and see Mr. Hammond?' asked papa, wishing to use up the
last half-hour of his time by a neighbourly call.
'No; I don't like Tommy Hammond, so I don't wish you to play with his
father,' said Harry, with a sly twinkle of the eye, as he turned the
tables on his papa.
Mr. Fairbairn gave a low whistle and retired to the barn, where Harry
followed him, and ordered the man to harness up old Bill.
'Going to drive, sir?' asked papa, respectfully.
'Don't ask questions,' was all the answer he got.
Old Bill was put into the best buggy and driven to the hall door. Papa
followed, and mamma sprang up from her nap, ready for her afternoon
drive.
'Can't I go?' she asked, as Kitty came down in her new hat and gloves.
'No; there isn't room.'
'Why not have the carryall, and let us go, too, we like it so much,'
said papa, in the pleading tone Harry often used.
Kitty was about to consent, for she loved mamma, and found it hard to
cross her so. But Harry was made of sterner stuff; his wrongs still
burned within him, and he said impatiently--
'We can't be troubled with you. The buggy is nicest and lightest, and we
want to talk over our affairs. You, my son, can help John turn the hay
on the lawn, and Caroline can amuse baby, or help Jane with the
preserves. Little girls should be domestic.'
'Oh, thunder!' growled papa.
'Aunt Betsey taught you that speech, you saucy boy,' cried mamma, as the
children drove off in high glee, leaving their parents to the
distasteful tasks set them.
Mrs. Fairbairn wanted to read, but baby was fretful, and there was no
Kitty to turn him over to, so she spent her afternoon amusing the small
tyrant, while papa made hay in the sun and didn't like it.
Just at tea-time the children came home, full of the charms of their
drive, but did not take the trouble to tell much about it to the
stay-at-home people. Bread and milk was all they allowed their victims,
while they revelled in marmalade and cake, fruit and tea.
'I expect company this evening, but I don't wish you to sit up,
Caroline; you are too young, and late hours are bad for your eyes. Go to
bed, and don't forget to brush your hair and teeth well, five minutes
for each; cold cream your hands, fold your ribbons, hang up your
clothes, put out your boots to be cleaned, and put in the mosquito bars;
I will come and take away the light when I am dressed.'
Kitty delivered this dread command with effect, for she had heard and
cried over it too often not to have it quite by heart.
'But I can't go to bed at half-past seven o'clock of a summer night! I'm
not sleepy, and this is just the pleasantest time of the whole day,'
said mamma, thinking her bargain a hard one.
'Go up directly, my daughter, and don't discuss the matter; I know what
is best for you,' and Kitty sent social, wide-awake mamma to bed, there
to lie thinking soberly till Mrs. Kit came for the lamp.
'Have you had a happy day, love?' she asked, bending over the pillow, as
her mother used to do.
'No, ma'am.'
'Then it was your own fault, my child. Obey your parents in all things,
and you will be both good and happy.'
'That depends'--began mamma, but stopped short, remembering that
to-morrow she would be on the other side, and anything she might say now
would be quoted against her.
But Kitty understood, and her heart melted as she hugged her mother and
said in her own caressing way--
'Poor little mamma! did she have a hard time? and didn't she like being
a good girl and minding her parents?'
Mamma laughed also, and held Kitty close, but all she said was--
'Good-night, dear; don't be troubled: it will be all right to-morrow.'
'I hope so,' and with a hearty kiss, Kitty went thoughtfully downstairs
to meet several little friends whom she had asked to spend the evening
with her.
As the ladies left the room, papa leaned back and prepared to smoke a
cigar, feeling that he needed the comfort of it after this trying day.
But Harry was down upon him at once.
'A very bad habit--can't allow it. Throw that dirty thing away, and go
and get your Latin lesson for to-morrow. The study is quiet, and we want
this room.'
'But I am tired. I can't study at night. Let me off till to-morrow,
please, sir!' begged papa, who had not looked at Latin since he left
school.
'Not a word, sir! I shall listen to no excuses, and shall _not_ let you
neglect your education on any account,' and Harry slapped the table _a
la_ papa in the most impressive manner.
Mr. Fairbairn went away into the dull study and made believe do his
lesson, but he really smoked and meditated.
The young folks had a grand revel, and kept it up till ten o'clock,
while mamma lay awake, longing to go down and see what they were about,
and papa shortly fell asleep, quite exhausted by the society of a Latin
Grammar.
'Idle boy, is this the way you study?' said Harry, audaciously tweaking
him by the ear.
'No, it's the way you do;' and feeling that his day of bondage was over,
papa cast off his allegiance, tucked a child under each arm, and marched
upstairs with them, kicking and screaming. Setting them down at the
nursery door, he said, shaking his finger at them in an awful manner,--
'Wait a bit, you rascals, and see what you will get to-morrow.'
With this dark threat he vanished into his own room, and a minute after
a great burst of laughter set their fears at rest.
'It was a fair bargain, so I'm not afraid,' said Harry stoutly.
'He kissed us good-night though he did glower at us, so I guess it was
only fun,' added Kitty.
'Hasn't it been a funny day?' asked Harry.
'Don't think I quite like it, everything is so turned round,' said
Kitty.
'Guess _they_ didn't like it very well. Hear 'em talking in there;' and
Harry held up his finger, for a steady murmur of conversation had
followed the laughter in papa and mamma's room.
'I wonder if our joke will do any good?' said Kitty thoughtfully.
'Wait and see,' answered Aunt Betsey, popping her night-capped head out
of her room with a nod and a smile that sent them to bed full of hope
for the future.
_DANDELION._
Down by the sea lived Ben the fisherman, with his wife, and little son,
who was called Dandelion, because he wore yellow pinafores, and had
curly, yellow hair, that covered his head with a golden fuzz. A very
happy family, for Ben was kind and industrious, Hetty, his wife, a
cheerful, busy creature, and Dandelion the jolliest three-year-old baby
who ever made sand-pies and paddled on the beach.
But one day a great trouble came to them. Ben and his fellow-fishermen
sailed blithely away as usual, and Hetty watched the fleet of
white-winged boats out of the bay, thinking how pretty they looked with
the sunshine on them; while Dandelion stood clapping his chubby hands,
and saying, as he always did, 'Daddy tummin' soon.' But Daddy did not
come soon that time; for a great storm arose, and when some of the boats
came scudding home at nightfall, Ben's was not among them. All night the
gale raged, and in the morning, Ben's boat lay empty and broken on the
shore. His mates shook their heads when they saw the wreck, and drew
their rough hands over their eyes; for Ben was a good seaman, and they
knew he never would desert his boat alive. They looked for him far and
wide, but could hear nothing of him, and felt sure that he had perished
in the storm. They tried to comfort poor Hetty, but she would not be
comforted. Her heart seemed broken; and if it had not been for her baby,
her neighbours feared that she would have gone to join Ben in his grave
under the sea. Dandelion didn't understand why every one was so sad, and
why his father stayed away so long; but he never lost his cheerfulness,
never gave up hoping, or stopped saying, with a contented smile, 'Daddy
tummin' soon.' The sunshiny little face was Hetty's only comfort. The
sight of the fuzzy yellow head, bobbing round the house, alone made it
endurable; and the touch of the loving baby hands kept her from the
despair which made her long to end her sorrow in the sea.
People don't believe in fairies now-a-days; nevertheless, good spirits
still exist, and help us in our times of trouble, better even than the
little people we used to read about. One of these household spirits is
called Love, and it took the shape of Dandelion to comfort poor Hetty.
Another is called Labor: a beautiful, happy spirit this is, and it did
its part so well that there was little time for bitter thoughts or vain
regrets; for Hetty's spinning-wheel must go, in order to earn bread for
Dandelion, whose mouth was always ready for food, like a hungry bird's.
Busily hummed the wheel: and, as it flew, it seemed to catch an echo of
the baby's cheerful song, saying, over and over, 'Daddy tummin' soon,'
till Hetty stopped crying as she worked, and listened to the cheerful
whirr. 'Yes, I shall see my good Ben again, if I wait patiently. Baby
takes comfort in saying that, and I will, too; though the poor dear will
get tired of it soon,' she said.
But Dandelion didn't get tired. He firmly believed what he said, and
nothing could change his mind. He had been much troubled at seeing the
boat laid up on the beach all broken and dismantled, but his little
mind couldn't take in the idea of shipwreck and death; so, after
thinking it over, he decided that Daddy was waiting somewhere for a new
boat to be sent to bring him home. This idea was so strong that the
child gathered together his store of toy-boats,--for he had many, as
they were his favourite plaything,--and launched them, one after
another, telling them to find his father, and bring him home.
As Dandelion was not allowed to play on the beach, except at low tide,
the little boats sailed safely away on the receding waves, and the child
was sure that some of them would get safely into the distant port where
Daddy was waiting. All the boats were launched at last, all sailed
bravely away; but none came back, and little Dandy was much
disappointed. He babbled about it to himself; told the peeps and the
horse-shoes, the snails and the lobsters, of his trouble; begged the
gulls to fly away and find Daddy; and every windy night when the sea
dashed on the shore and the shutters rattled, he would want the lamp put
in the window, as it used to be when they expected Ben, and tried to
make home look cheerful, even before he got there.
Hetty used to humour the child, though it made her heart ache to know
that the light shone in vain. At such times Dandy would prance about the
room in his little shirt, and talk about Daddy as happily as if long
months had not passed without bringing him back. When fairly in his big,
old-fashioned cradle, the boy would lie, looking more like a dandelion
than ever, in his yellow flannel night-gown, playing with his toes, or
rocking himself to and fro, calling the cradle his boat, and blithely
telling his mother that he was sailing 'far way to find Daddy.' When
tired of play, he lay still and asked her to sing to him. She had no
heart for the gay old sea-songs she used to sing for lullabies; so she
sung hymns in her soft, motherly voice, till the blue eyes closed and
the golden head lay still, looking so pretty, with the circle of bright
hair above the rosy face. 'My little saint,' Hetty called him; and
though she often wept sadly as she watched him, the bitterness of her
grief passed away, and a patient hope came to her; for the child's firm
faith impressed her deeply, the pious music of the sweet old hymns
comforted her sore heart, and daily labor kept her cheerful in spite of
herself. The neighbours wondered at the change that came over her, but
she could not explain it; and no one knew that the three good spirits
called Love, Labor, and Hope, were working their pleasant miracles.
Six long months went by, and no one ever thought of seeing Ben
again,--no one but his little son, who still watched for him here, and
his wife, who waited to meet him hereafter.