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MARY WOOD-ALLEN

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MAKING THE BEST OF
OUR CHILDREN
FIRST SERIES
Making the Best of
Our Children
jfirgt Šerieg
onE To EIGHT YEARs of AGE
BY
MARY WOOD-ALLEN, M.D.
EDITED BY ROSE WOOD ALLE IV CHAPMA IV
C H I C A G O
A. C. McCL U R G & CO.

1909
CoPYRIGHT
A. C. McCLURG & Co.
I909
Published October 16, 1909
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
DEDICATED
TO
THE LITTLE GRANDCHILDREN WHOM SHE SO
TENDERLY LOWED
HELEN, ALAN, AND BRUCE
&º gº ºf X, A. E. g.
203450
-Z PREFACE
HESE stories have been written, not for the
literary enjoyment of the general reader.
but for the enlightenment of fathers and mothers,
There has been no attempt at literary style save
clearness and simplicity. The effort has been to
present clear, contrasting pictures of the way in
which various domestic problems usually are
handled, and a better way of treating them.
It is easy for the psychologist to lay down fun-
damental principles of child-training, based
upon his knowledge of the child-mind; it is diffi-
cult to apply these principles to individual cases.
The busy mother very often fails to see how
these theoretical considerations bear upon the
problem in hand, or how the knowledge set forth
in books may be made of practical value in daily
life. The psychologist himself often fails to find
the best way of acting when a definite problem
is set before him. His mind is trained to recog-
nize what should be, but is not always equally
| V |
Preface
well adapted to discover how the desired condi-
tion may be secured.
Here, however, is a series of stories which
show clearly just how a great variety of problems
in child-training may be solved. The mother
whose boy is always late to breakfast is not told
that “she should arouse a desire in the child to
appear at the proper hour,” but is shown by an
illustrative story how one mother secured the
desired result. The method may not be one she
could use, but, catching a glimpse of how general
principles may be reduced to terms of action
suited to a specific instance, she is aroused to a
similar attempt. The value of these stories lies
not alone in what they portray, but even more in
what they suggest.
Equally valuable is the other side of the picture,
as shown in the first story of each pair. Many a
mother needs to be shaken out of her condition
of complacent satisfaction with her own chance
manner of dealing with her children’s short-
comings. It is only when she catches her own
reflection in the mirror of these presentations
and is led to see the inevitable end of her method,
that she realizes any need for thought on her part.
| vil
Preface
Once shaken out of her self-satisfaction, she is
open and eager to receive the helpful suggestions
contained in the presentation of the wiser method
of procedure.
That hundreds —yes, thousands — of mothers
appreciate this method of teaching was plainly
evidenced by the numberless letters received by
the author when they were appearing from
month to month in the magazine of which she was
then editor. That thousands more will benefit
from their perusal, is the hope of the one who,
now that the author has entered the life beyond,
has gathered them together, arranged them, and
sends them forth.
THE EDITOR.
NEW YORK, August 1, 1909,
[vii
II.
III.
IV.
VII.
VIII.
C O N T E N T S
FIRST SERIES
Two METHODs witH THE BABY (Sia:
Months) . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two YoUNG FATHERs (Nine Months)
DEVELOPING CHARACTER TRAITs (Eighteen
Months) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
TEACHING SELF-CONTROL (Two Years)
TRAINING IN OBEDIENCE (Two Years)
EARLY ATTITUDE TowARD HOUSEwork
(Three Years) . . . . . . . . . . . .
INCONSISTENCY VERSUS CONSISTENCY
(Three Years) . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two CHRISTMAs DAYS (Four Years)
THE LESSON OF Two LOST CHILDREN
(Four Years) . . . . . . . . . . . .
TURMoIL OR QUIET: A CoNTRAST (Four
Years) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
PAGE
11
25
39
43
53
63
Contents
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX
Two MoTHERs SHOPPING (Four Years)
REGARDING THE DOCTOR's ORDERs
(Five Years) . . . . . . . . . . .
STRIFE OR HARMONY (Five Years) . .
RUNNING Away AND ITs CURE (Five
Years) . . . . . . . . . . . . .
STUDYING THE CHILD (Sia: Years) . .
GooD AND BAD TABLE MANNERs (Sia:
Years) . . . . . . . . . . . . .
COMPELLING OBEDIENCE AND WINNING
IT (Sia: Years) . . . . . . . . . .
ATTITUDE TowARD CHRISTMAS TRADI-
TIONS (Seven Years) . . . . . . .
CONTRASTING METHODS OF BUSY
MOTHERs (Seven Years) . . . . .
A WRONG AND A RIGHT THANKSGIVING
DAY (Eight Years) . . . . . . . .
PAGE
129
141
151
I61
I75
193
201
211
227
I
TWO METHODS WITH THE BABY
(SIX MONTHS)
MAKING THE BEST OF
OUR CHILDREN
jfirgt $ºtrieg
TWO METHODS WITH THE BABY
(SIX MONTHS)
No. 1
RS. EMORY awoke very tired. Indeed,
she was always more tired in the morn-
ing than when she went to bed, for the baby
had been tugging at her all night or else cry-
ing, and so disturbed her rest. -
This morning baby was still sleeping, and
the mother hoped to be able to draw herself
away from the little clinging lips without awak-
ening the child. In this, however, she was
unsuccessful, and baby set up a cry which
threatened to arouse the sleeping father; so
Mrs. Emory hastily lifted the child and carried
him into the next room. Here she deposited him
[13]
Making the Best of Our Children
on the floor, while she hurriedly dressed herself,
trying to entertain him at the same time —
though unsuccessfully.
When she was dressed, she took the crying
child in her arms to the kitchen, where, still
holding him, she lighted the fire and filled the
teakettle. Again she made a futile effort to
put the baby down, but his protesting screams
overcame her resolution, and she carried him
on one arm while she set the table and made
further preparations for breakfast. -
As long as she carried him he was perfectly
quiet, but every effort to put him out of her
arms was met with rebellious cries.
In the midst of one of these attempts the
father appeared upon the scene.
“What is the matter with this child?” he
exclaimed, somewhat petulantly. “Why don’t
you feed him P”
“He is n’t hungry,” replied the mother.
“See how he is chewing his fists,” said Mr.
Emory. “I guess he knows better than you
when he is hungry. Give him something to
eat.”
Mrs. Emory obeyed the suggestion, and nursed
[14]
Two Methods with the Baby
the baby between intervals of attending to the
cooking. At length the meal was placed upon
the table, in a somewhat disorderly fashion,
and the mother seated herself with the baby in
her arms.
“Can’t you put him in his chair?” asked the
father.
“You know very well how he will act if I do,”
replied Mrs. Emory. “He will throw everything
upon the floor that he can get hold of, and scream
until we can’t hear ourselves think. I can hold
him here if I feed him a little.”
3.
“Of course,” said Mr. Emory, with a smile,
“a baby that has four teeth can eat, and I protest
against your starving him.”
“He certainly is not starved, James,” replied
Mrs. Emory, “for he has been eating practically
all night. I just feel as if every particle of life
had been taken out of me”; and her tired
looks corroborated her words.
“Well, he is old enough to eat,” asserted the
father, with emphasis. “Give him some of your
potato.”
This the mother did, following each mouthful
with a few drops of coffee from her cup, and
[15]
Making the Best of Our Children
occasionally taking the bread from her own
mouth and putting it -into the mouth of the
child, who soon learned to reach up and take
the bread from her lips, at which both parents
laughed.
Breakfast over, Mr. Emory departed to his
business, and Mrs. Emory endeavored to put the
baby down long enough to do the breakfast work.
It was a hard morning. If she put the little
fellow upon the floor, he cried. If she carried
him in her arms, he was good, but she could not
work to advantage. He seemed to be constantly
hungry, and yet frequent feeding did not satisfy
him.
At length, in utter despair, the mother con-
cluded to administer a soothing syrup, which
was advertised as “perfectly harmless” and
which she knew would make him sleep. After
two doses, the little fellow slept, — not the rosy
sleep of the normal child, but with partially
opened eyes and mouth, and an unpleasant pallor
which would have aroused the anxiety of an un-
derstanding observer.
During the two hours of this unnatural sleep
Mrs. Emory was able to do her housework and
[16]
Two Methods with the Baby
prepare her dinner. Just before dinner the baby
woke up, and she found time to wash and dress
him. Then he was nursed and placed in his
high-chair at the dinner-table—behaving just ex-
actly as his mother had prophesied at breakfast.
Everything given to him was thrown upon the
floor, and his hands were constantly reaching out
for the food which his parents were eating.
They gave him something at intervals from
their own plates, and by the time the meal was
ended he had received a most heterogeneous
combination of articles, totally unfit for the diet
of a baby six months old.
By means of lumps of sugar, Mrs. Emory was
able to keep the baby quiet until she could wash
the dinner dishes and dress herself for the after-
noon, after which he was washed and dressed,
and taken out in his carriage for an airing, during
which time he was comparatively good. In fact,
he slept for at least half an hour.
Upon his awakening, the trials of the morning
were repeated in the vain efforts of the mother to
entertain or pacify him and the rebellious screams
of the child when everything did not go to suit
him.
2 [17]
Making the Best of Our Children
“Oh dear!” sighed Mrs. Emory, as her hus-
band entered the house at supper-time. “Can’t
you take this child for a little while P I am so
tired, it seems as if I should drop, and I have n’t
been able to do a thing towards getting supper.”
Mr. Emory responded pleasantly to this sug-
gestion, for the child was now old enough to be
played with and therefore to be entertaining;
and while the mother prepared the evening meal,
father and baby had a most hilarious romp.
“Just see how good he is with me,” said the
father, as he brought the laughing child into the
dining-room.
But the goodness quickly vanished when an
attempt was made to put him out of his father’s
a.I’IſlS. -
“I’ll carry him while you eat your supper,”
said Mr. Emory, “and then you can take care of
him while I eat mine.” *
This plan was followed with success, Mr.
Emory taking the baby again at the close of his
meal, and romping with him until Mrs. Emory
had done her evening work.
Then the baby was undressed, and at about
half-past seven in the evening Mrs. Emory sat
[18]
Two Methods with the Baby
down to rock the little fellow. Nearly two hours
passed in this manner before the child was able
to become quiet enough to sleep, so that it was
really bedtime for the parents, and Mrs. Emory
knew that if she did not get to bed during this
first nap of the child’s she would have the work
all to do over again. --
“I met Mr. Halstead as I was coming home
to-night,” said Mr. Emory, “and he told me he
and his wife were going to the concert. I wish
you and I could go out together once in a while.”
“I really do not see how they can go out so
much evenings,” said Mrs. Emory. “Their baby
is just the same age as ours, but I know Mrs.
Halstead does go out whenever she wants to.”
“Their baby must have better health than
ours,” said Mr. Emory. “Perhaps that is the
reason, or maybe she gives it soothing syrup at
night so that it will sleep.”
“No, she does n’t,” replied Mrs. Emory. “She
objects to giving soothing syrup at any time, but
somehow her baby is very good. I really can’t
understand it. I guess it is just a matter of tem-
perament, and something we can’t help.”
[ 19 J
Making the Best of Our Children
JNo. 2
To follow Mrs. Halstead through the day with
her baby would probably explain the problem
which puzzled her neighbor, Mrs. Emory. Mrs.
Halstead, unlike Mrs. Emory, had a system which
originated in common sense and which was car-
ried out with good judgment.
In the first place, her baby was accustomed
to regular times of nursing. He had also been
treated to what the old lady called “a little whole-
some neglect.” He slept in his own separate bed,
so he was not subjected to the temptation of
constant night nursing.
On this particular day, when Mrs. Halstead
awoke after a comfortable night's rest, she heard
a very lovely cooing sound from the little bed near
her, and, glancing in that direction, saw that the
baby had kicked off his covers and, with his bare
feet sticking straight up in the air, was having a
happy time playing with his toes.
How long he had been awake the mother did
not know. On seeing her looking at him, he
stretched out his hands with an appealing sound,
[20]
Two Methods with the Baby
which she answered by raising him into a sitting
position and giving to him a few playthings which
were made fast to the bars of the crib by strings,
so that they could not be thrown upon the floor,
or, if pushed out of the crib, could be recovered
by means of the strings. They were very simple
playthings — a couple of clothes pins, two or
three buttons strung on a cord, an empty bottle,
and an empty tin box, out of which he could make
a rattle with the various small articles. These
the child played with very happily while the
mother was dressing. He protested a little when
she left the room, but the father reached out his
arms and drew the little fellow to him in the large
bed, where he began amusing himself with inves-
tigating the configuration of the father's face,
being very much entertained with finding how
he could make the eyelids come open, or find the
orifice of the mouth.
While this entertainment was going on, Mrs.
Halstead was busy in the kitchen preparing
breakfast. While breakfast was being eaten,
baby was placed in his little carriage by the
mother's side, and entertained himself with a
teaspoon and a napkin ring.
[21]
Making the Best of Our Children
Breakfast over, Mrs. Halstead put away the
eatables, piled the dishes up in the sink, and then
it was time for baby's bath, – a most happy time
for both mother and child. Then came baby's
breakfast, and mother enjoyed a few minutes’
rest, with a glance at a favorite magazine, while
baby partook of his food.
The repast being ended, baby was placed upon
the floor with a new supply of articles for his en-
tertainment, while the mother was able to wash
her dishes and make the beds. Then baby was
taken up for a little variation, talked to and played
with for a few minutes, then made warm and dry,
and laid away in his own bed for his morning
nap. He smiled happily and waved his hand
good-bye to mother, as she left him alone for a
peaceful sleep.
During the next two hours Mrs. Halstead was
able to give her time uninterruptedly to her house-
work and to her dinner. At twelve o’clock baby
waked, was nursed, and was ready again to sit
in his little wagon, gnawing away at his hard roll
of bread, while his parents ate their dinner in
quietness. After dinner he went down upon the
floor again to play until the dishes were washed
[22]
Two Methods with the Baby
and mother was dressed for the afternoon. Then
came his ride, his supper at four o’clock, another
quiet hour of play, and at half-past five o’clock
he was undressed for his air bath, which he greatly
enjoyed. At six o'clock he was again laid quietly
to rest. In a few minutes he was soundly asleep,
and Mrs. Halstead went down to a quiet evening
meal with her husband with the certainty that
nothing would be heard from baby until ten
o'clock.
That is why Mr. and Mrs. Halstead could
attend concerts and lectures or make friendly
visits, for they knew that the one who was left in
care of the baby would have nothing to do but to
sit quietly during the entire evening.
[23]
II
TWO YOUNG FATHERS
(NINE MONTHS)
IT
TWO YOUNG FATHERS
(NINE MONTHS)
JNo. 1
RS. HAYDEN was bending over her tiny
infant with looks of adoration. Her hus-
band stood looking out of the window, whistling.
“Come here, Henry,” she called, “and see the
baby. He is four days old, and you have hardly
looked at him, I really believe.”
Obedient to the summons, Mr. Hayden came
to the bedside and bent over the sleeping infant.
“Is n’t he the most beautiful thing you ever
saw P” the young mother said, softly stroking the
little bald head.
“Not exactly,” said Mr. Hayden with a smile,
poking his finger in the little red wrinkled cheek.
“To tell you the truth, I can’t say that he is
pretty at all. In fact, I had no idea that new
babies looked so much like little animals.”
[27 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“Oh, Henry !” protested his wife, glancing up
at him reproachfully.
“Oh, of course, he ’s nice,” said Mr. Hayden;
“but you really don’t expect me to take very
much interest in him until he begins to be able
to take notice.”
“I hoped you would,” said Mrs. Hayden with
a little sigh, but giving no other evidence of
disappointment.
She knew her husband, and knew what she
might in reason expect from him. He was a
good-natured man, but, as he said of himself,
there was “no false sentiment” about him.
He was absorbed in business, and felt that if he
furnished all that was required for the physical
needs of his family, he had compassed his duty.
His place was to attend to business; his wife's,
to look after the house and children. She was
capable of doing it, and it was not his place to
be meddling with her affairs.
“Of course,” he said, “when the kid gets
old enough to be obstreperous, I may have
to get in and lend a hand in keeping him
in order; but wife will do the larger part of
the training.”
[28 |
Two Young Fathers
It did nºt occur to him that this little bundle
of capabilities should make any appeal to his
moral nature. It was n’t a man’s business to take
care of babies, and babies were not interesting
until they could serve as a means of paternal
amusement.
Leaving home early in the morning and not
returning until the baby was asleep, Mr. Hayden
saw practically nothing of the little one except on
Sunday, and even then he seemed to be far more
interested in the Sunday newspaper than in the
child.
“Don’t you want to see the baby in his bath P”
his wife would ask on Sunday morning. “You
have no time on week-days, and he does look so
lovely as he kicks and splashes the water. I
know you would enjoy it.”
“Oh, certainly,” Mr. Hayden would reply
abstractedly, from the depths of his newspaper.
“Just let me know when you are ready.”
It was with a feeling of self-approval, as quite
a model husband and father, that he laid down
his paper at his wife’s call and went to witness
the operation of bathing the baby. He would
stand looking on as an entirely disinterested
[29]
Making the Best of Our Children
tº.
party might have done, asking no special ques-
tions, but occasionally snapping his fingers at the
child, or saying, “Hello, youngster, you are
having a fine time, are n’t you?” and then
return to his reading, well satisfied with himself.
He had borne the interruption good-naturedly.
What more could a wife ask? It never occurred
to him that a more intimate knowledge of the
conduct of his household and the care of his
baby might be of importance to himself.
One night Mrs. Hayden was taken with a
severe chill, and by morning was in a raging
fever with delirium. The doctor was called, and
one or two near neighbors hastily summoned.
For a time all were absorbed in the care of the
invalid, but the baby’s insistent cries soon made
it evident that he, too, must receive attention.
“Where is baby’s food P” asked Mrs. Blake,
one of the neighbors. “He must have something
to eat.”
“Why, I don’t know,” said Mr. Hayden.
“She nurses him, does n’t she P” -
“Partly,” replied Mrs. Blake, “but you know
she has been giving him additional food for some
time.”
[30 |
Two Young Fathers
“Why, no — yes — why, I don’t know. Seems
to me she has been giving him something from a
bottle, but I don’t know what it is nor where she
keeps it. You will have to hunt around and
find it.”
Mrs. Blake made search and found several
kinds of infants' foods, and, appealing to the
doctor for counsel, prepared the baby’s break-
fast. All appeals to Mr. Hayden where to find
things were of no avail. He had no idea where
the baby’s clothes were kept, nor how the baby
was dressed. He was n’t sure whether his wife
gave the baby a bath every day or only on
Sunday morning, and could tell nothing about
the temperature of the bath. When appealed to
over and over again for directions, he could only
helplessly say, “Oh, do the best you can, Mrs.
Blake, I don’t know anything about it.”
It was impossible to secure help, so Mr.
Hayden must of necessity remain at home and
take care of his wife. Mrs. Blake took the baby
to her house with the promise to “treat it as one
and Mr. Hayden was installed as
of her own,”
nurse and housekeeper. The sick woman would
have fared badly had not the neighbors made
[31]
Making the Best of Our Children
daily visits to give her personal attention and
send in such articles of food as the doctor
prescribed.
Mr. Hayden was comparatively helpless. He
knew absolutely nothing about cooking and had
not the slightest knack of nursing. He was of
very little importance except to stay in the house
so that the patient should not be left alone, and
to run on errands. Occasionally he would go into
the neighbor’s to inquire after the baby, and,
when told that he was doing well, seemed
satisfied.
When Mrs. Hayden was well enough to
assume at least partial care of the little one, she
was horrified at the change that had taken place
in the child’s appearance.
“This baby is sick,” she said. “Did n’t you
know it, Henry P”
“Why, no, how should I know it? I don’t
know anything about babies, and Mrs. Blake
said she would take care of it as if it were her
own.”
“She evidently has,” replied Mrs. Hayden,
with irony. “She has had six, and all of them
are dead but one.”
[32]
Two Young Fathers
“Well, I supposed she knew how to take care
of children,” said Mr. Hayden, “seeing she had
had so many.”
“Some women don’t know any more about
taking care of babies than some men,” replied
Mrs. Hayden, sarcastically.
“Now, Anna, I think that is unkind,” said her
husband. “You can’t expect a man to attend to
business and take care of babies too.”
“Certainly not,” replied Mrs. Hayden, “but
one would think that even a business man could
take some practical interest in the welfare of his
family.”
No. 2
MRs. LESTER was bending over her first-born
with looks of adoration so absorbed that she did
not heed the approach of her husband, until,
putting his head gently against hers, he said:
“Just give me half a chance, madam. I am a
member of this adoration society, and you are
not going to crowd me out, even if you are the
mother.”
Mrs. Lester looked up in her husband’s face
3 [33]
M aking the Best of Our Children
with a happy smile, as she said, “Is n’t he the
most beautiful thing you ever saw P”
“I think I could hardly say that,” replied her
husband, laughing. “From an aesthetic stand-
point I have seen things I consider his superior,
but he is certainly the most marvellous miracle
that has ever come under my personal
observation.
“Now, Nellie,” he added appealingly, “I
want you to let me in ‘on the ground floor” in
this business. Usually, fathers don’t have half
a chance. They must of necessity spend most of
their time in their business, but I claim at least
one day out of the seven as mine and half of
every night. As soon as the nurse goes, I am
going to learn all the mysteries of baby’s toilet.
I want to know how to give him his bath and to
dress him, to rock and sing to him and cuddle
him just as much like a mother as possible. If
God, our Heavenly Father, can comfort us as a
mother comforteth her children,” he said rever-
ently, “I think we earthly fathers ought to try
to learn something of what that motherly care
may mean, not only to the baby, but also in its
reflex influence upon ourselves.”
[34]
Two Young Fathers
“Oh, I knew it, I knew it !” murmured Mrs.
Lester. “I just felt sure that you would enter
with me into all the deeper experiences that come
through motherhood. We’ll study them to-
gether, and he will not be as too many children
are, — half-orphans, though with living fathers.”
In pursuance of the plan thus outlined, Mr.
Lester acquainted himself with the whole routine
of the baby’s life. On Sunday morning, with
the bath apron spread upon his knees to make a
lap, he went through the process of undressing,
bathing, and dressing the baby. Half the duties
of the night-time were taken not only good-
naturedly, but most eagerly, by himself; and
sometimes when he had walked the floor with
the restless, crying child, he had said to his wife:
“Men do not know what they miss in being will-
ing to forego this intimate acquaintance with
their children. I did not know that tiny fingers
could clutch a man’s heart so strongly that it
would almost cease to beat with the apprehension
that the little one’s illness might be serious and
the little life be soon missed from the home.”
One day Mrs. Lester was knocked down by a
runaway horse and seriously injured, so that for
[35]
Making the Best of Our Children
hours she was unconscious. Mr. Lester was
hastily summoned from his place of business,
and soon found that all his knowledge of
household affairs was to be tested to the utmost.
He knew just where old cloths could be found
for bandages; he knew just exactly what supple-
mental food was prepared for the baby, how it
was prepared, and what amount was given at
each feeding. He knew where the baby’s clothes
were kept, the temperature of the bath, the hours
of sleeping, and absolutely refused to allow the
child to be taken home by a neighbor.
“No,” he said, “no one can care for him as I
can. We will he glad of neighborly assistance
and kindliness, but you must consider that I am
head nurse in taking care of my wife, and both
father and mother in caring for the baby.”
The kindness of the neighbors in sending in
food was acknowledged, but the viands that
Mrs. Lester found most to her taste were those
which were prepared by her husband; and
when she was so far recovered that the child
could be brought again to her, she saw him as
rosy, well, and happy as at the time of her
accident.
[36]
Two Young Fathers
“What a blessed thing it was, dear,” she said
to her husband, “that you knew how to do all
these things for me and the baby!”
“Yes,” he replied, “a blessing not only for
you but for me as well, because I have learned
better than ever before how to appreciate what
you are doing every day; and I know that I will
be better able to understand my son when he
grows older because I have been so intimate a
part of his life in infancy.”
[37]
III .
DEVELOPING CHARACTER TRAITS
(EIGHTEEN MONTHS)
III
DEVELOPING CHARACTER TRAITS
(EIGHTEEN MONTHS)
JVo. 1
LITTLE fellow just learning to walk
stumbles and hurts his head against a chair.
Mamma runs and picks him up, exclaiming,
“Naughty chair to hurt baby! We will whip
the chair”; and so the mind of the child is di-
verted from his own pain, and filled with the
idea of inflicting pain upon something else in
retaliation. This plan is followed in regard to
everything with which the child comes into un-
pleasant contact, and, following up the course
of reasoning thus suggested, he soon comes to
strike people and to be filled with the spirit of
retaliation.
[41]
Making the Best of Our Children
No. 2
A LITTLE fellow just learning to walk stumbles
and hurts his head against a chair. Mamma
runs and picks him up, exclaiming cheerfully:
“That did not hurt baby | Did it hurt the
chair P Poor chair! You must pet the chair and
love it.” So baby is taught to express sympathy
with the chair, table, or other inanimate object
with which he comes into unpleasant contact.
Little by little he learns to express the same
feeling in regard to individuals, and instead of
instinctively retaliating when he is hurt, he
begins to manifest a sympathetic interest in the
person or thing through which the hurt has come.
Many a quarrel with other children is thus
averted because of the loving disposition mani-
fested, and the child grows up with a sweetness
of temper that means much to him and those
about him.
[42]
IV
TEACHING SELF—CONTROL
(TWO YEARS)
IV
TEACHING SELF-CONTROL
(TWO YEARS)
JNo. 1
RS. WRIGHT was a young mother, with
no previous experience in the care of in-
fants, and had not yet proved herself altogether
successful in solving her problem. She was over-
burdened with household cares, and, although
naturally amiable, she was often impatient be-
cause overwearied. Not understanding how to
teach her baby to be self-reliant, she had allowed
him to become tyrannical, and, as a conse-
Quence, he was seldom out of her arms.
As he grew old enough to sit in his high-chair,
she used sometimes to put him up to the table
instead of holding him on her lap; but he proved
himself very troublesome, snatching at the table-
cloth, throwing knives and spoons on the floor,
and screaming at the top of his voice if they were
not at once restored to him or if they were placed
[45]
Making the Best of Our Children
out of his reach. As he grew old enough to feed
himself, he became very dictatorial, demanding
everything on the table, clambering up and help-
ing himself, or raising a wonderful rumpus if in
any way his wishes were thwarted. It did not
take him very long to become the despot of the
household.
As an infant, he was carried by his mother
everywhere she went. As he grew old enough to
walk, he demanded still that he accompany her,
until at last she grew into the habit of asking his
permission to perform her daily duties.
“You 'll let mamma go upstairs and make the
beds, won’t you, Georgie dear?” which reason-
able request “Georgie dear” flatly refused to
grant. And then mamma would coax: “Please,
Georgie, you stay here and let mamma go upstairs
and make your little bed,” and so on, until the
contest would end by mamma's carrying the ob-
stinate child upstairs and coaxing or bribing him
into permitting her to make the beds. Then, as
dinner-time approached, “Mamma wants to go
down cellar; you 'll stay here until mamma
comes back, won’t you, Georgie P” No, Georgie
would nºt. Nothing would satisfy the little tyrant
[46]
Teaching Self-Control
but that he must be carried down cellar and
bribed with an apple in addition.
When Georgie was two years old, a guest at
the table witnessed this little scene. Georgie,
seated in his high-chair, climbed upon the table
and helped himself to various articles of food be-
fore the rest of the people were seated. During
the meal he asked for several things, and refused
them as soon as they were given to him. He de-
cided that he would not have milk, he must have
coffee. He would not eat bread, he must have
cake; and if at first refused, he howled and
kicked until his requests were granted. He de-
manded pickles; his mother at first demurred
at giving them to him. He pounded on the table
with his knife and fork, kicked the under side of
the table with his toes, and emitted such dread-
ful yells that at last his mother selected a pickle
and offered it to him. It apparently did not suit
His Highness, for he took it and threw it across
the table and still demanded pickle. The mother,
with a deprecating look at the guest, held the
dish toward him, and he handled the pickles over
until he found one that suited him, and then sub-
sided into temporary quiet.
[47]
Making the Best of Our Children
The father, with a smile, said to the guest,
“You see, we purchase peace at any price.”
“Well, that is Scriptural, is n’t it?” asked the
little mother, gently.
It is not difficult to imagine what may be the
price at which they will purchase peace, as this
child advances in years.
No. 2
MRs. CLAYTON is a young mother, inexperienced
in the care of infants, but, having paid much at-
tention to the study of the psychology of child-
hood, she has some foundation principles upon
which she intends to build the superstructure of
her child’s character. He is a strong, active little
fellow, with a brain ever on the alert, and it will
take much patience and skill for her to direct his
developing energies in right channels.
One of her especially strong points is her belief
that the child must have an opportunity to get
acquainted with himself, and this for many
months will be his principal occupation, —
therefore she does not thrust her presence upon
him continually. He is allowed to lie upon the
[48]
Teaching Self-Control
bed or on the floor, to study his little hands and
to make the aimless movements which are ac-
quainting him with his own powers. His feet are
left free to kick, and so he is getting acquainted
with himself and the world. He spends his in-
fancy generally within sight and hearing of the
mother, and sometimes in closer and dearer
companionship, which, because not constant,
has for him all the delight of a visit. By this
plan she is left free a greater part of the time to
attend to her household duties.
As he grows old enough to sit in his high-chair,
he is sometimes placed at the table, that he may
have the companionship of his parents; but he
is not fed at this time, because he has his own
regular meals of especially prepared foods at
stated intervals. He thus early learns the lesson
that his parents may eat things which are not
permitted him. At first Mrs. Clayton gave him
a spoon with which to amuse himself while papa
and mamma were eating. The first time he
dropped the spoon upon the floor, she instinc-
tively returned it to him; he took it and at once
threw it down upon the floor, watching it with
apparent pleasure.
4. [49]
Making the Best of Our Children
“Ah,” said Mrs. Clayton, “he has made a dis-
covery. He has learned that he can drop things.
Now he must make another discovery, - that
things which he drops do not come back to him.”
So no attention was paid to his pleading that the
spoon should be restored. A few such experi-
ences told him, better than slapped fingers and
impatient words, that if he desired to retain an
article as a plaything when he was up in the
high-chair, he must not throw it upon the floor.
When he grew old enough so that his dinner-
time came at the same hour as that of his par-
ents, Mrs. Clayton thought it a good thing that
he should begin to learn table manners in com-
pany with other people. So he was permitted
to take his dinner with them; but this did not
mean that he was to eat of everything placed upon
the table. There were certain articles of food of
which his parents might eat which were forbidden
to him. For example, he was not allowed pota-
toes, Mrs. Clayton having learned that these
starchy foods are not the best for little children.
When first he made request that potatoes should
be given him, he was pleasantly told that “pota-
toes were for papa and mamma and not for
[50]
Teaching Self-Control
Freddy.” As he was not accustomed to rebelling
against the decisions of his parents, he accepted
the statement as law and cheerfully abided by
it. Sometimes when there were guests in the
family a little spirit of mischief would seem to
possess him, and he would ask for potatoes.
When he would receive the usual reply, he would
sing in apparently high glee, “Tatoes for papa
and mamma, not for Freddy.”
“I do not see how you can refuse to give your
child the food which you put before him on the
table and which you yourself eat,” guests would
sometimes say. Mrs. Clayton would reply:
“All through life he will be obliged to see
many things which he cannot appropriate to him-
self; the sooner and the more happily he learns
this lesson, the better it will be for him. I deny
him nothing that is not hurtful, and I am sure
that he feels that, just as far as possible, I give
him the things he wants.”
Certainly it would seem as if this were the
case, for the little fellow seemed to find it no hard-
ship to refuse candies, fruits, and cake when -
offered him by neighbors, with the simple words,
“Why, I don’t eat cake,” or, “My mamma
[51]
Making the Best of Our Children
does n’t allow me to eat between meals,” which
to him seemed a sufficient reason for not accept-
ing the proffered gifts.
When he was a baby, Mrs. Clayton did not
carry him constantly in her arms as she went
about her work. He was accustomed to seeing
her go in and out of the room without being con-
sulted in the matter. As he grew older she used
to say to him, if she knew she would be absent
from the room for some time, “Now, mamma is
going upstairs to make the beds”; or, “Mamma
is going down cellar after potatoes.” Very fre-
quently she would permit him to accompany her,
but always as a favor to him. He might, for ex-
ample, take his little tin pail and go with her to
the cellar and bring up a couple of apples for
himself, which were then put in a pan and baked
for his dinner; but if the mother was too busy to
allow him this privilege, he learned that it was no
use to tease. And so, while, in the first place,
her plan of management took rather more time
than to have yielded to his wishes, in the end it
secured for him more happiness, for her more
leisure, and for the whole family far more peace.
[52]
V
TRAINING IN OBEDIENCE
(TWO YEARS)
V
TRAINING IN OBEDIENCE
(TWO YEARS)
JNo. 1
& & HEN this child is old enough to under-
stand, we shall have to begin to teach
him to mind, but he is so little now that we
cannot expect him to understand what is said
to him.”
Mrs. Ellis was coming back from a race down
the sidewalk after her little two-year-old boy,
who, not heeding her prohibition, had slipped
through the gateway and was running as fast as
his little feet could carry him. His mother ran
after him, caught him up and ran back, kissing
and playing with him until he forgot his disap-
pointment in the play with her. Once inside the
gate, she put him down, closed the gate, fas-
tened it, and, shaking her finger smilingly at the
little fellow, said, “We’ll fix it so you won’t get
[ 55]
Making the Best of Our Children
out again”; then, to a friend who sat near, she
continued, “I really dread the time when we
shall have to begin to teach him to mind, for he
actually does not seem to have the least idea of
what obedience means.”
This was not surprising when we take into
consideration the method of training which had
so far been pursued. Everything which would
be marred or broken by his handling had always
been put out of his reach. He was forcibly kept
from all possible dangers, as far as his mother
could foresee them. If he was told not to go near
the stove, he was closely watched, and if it was
observed that he was approaching the forbidden
object, some one would run after him and carry
him away from the place of danger. So it was
with doorways, stairways, gateways, and all pos-
sibly dangerous places. Prohibitions were given,
but were followed so closely by forcible restraint,
softened and sweetened by caresses and playful
endearments, that it was not surprising that the
little fellow should seem to imagine that “No,
no, baby must not,” was a challenge to attempt
that which was forbidden, a signal for a playful
romp with mamma.
[ 56 |
Training in Obedience
The problem which Mrs. Ellis had set for her-
self, she might well dread to undertake, -namely,
teaching her boy to obey, when the time should
arrive that, in her judgment, brought with it an
ability on his part to understand what prohibi-
tions really meant.
JNo. e
“No doubt you have very fine theories, but you
will discover that your children will scatter your
theories to the winds.” -
These were the prophecies made by Mrs.
Farwell’s friends, who knew that she had ideas
in regard to the training of children. When her
first-born son lay in her arms, these same wise
friends, with prophetic chuckles over her coming
overthrow, said, “This is the little chap that's
going to show his mamma that a real, live child
cannot be brought up on theories.”
But Mrs. Farwell did not expect defeat. She
felt sure that she would be able to work out a
plan of action which would prove the wisdom
of her theories. Looking down into the baby’s
face, she said to herself: “His education must
begin at once. This education does not mean
[ 57]
Making the Best of Our Children
forcible restraint, but the development of inward
governing force.” --
From the very outset of life she began a course
of training which she hoped would give him
power to govern himself. As he grew old enough
to notice things and to endeavor to use his hands,
desirable objects were not put out of his reach,
but at once the training began which would
enable him to see pretty things and at the same
time not handle them. The mother spent con-
siderable time in this direct training. She would
put up before him a pretty vase, or some other
attractive object, and when he would put out his
hands toward it, she would gently pull the hands
back, saying, “No, no, baby must not touch.”
She knew he would not understand the words,
but she felt sure that before long he would asso-
ciate these sounds with her own forcible though
gentle prevention of his handling the desired
object. He might look at it all he pleased, but
the little hands must be kept off. He learned in
this way to look at books and pictures and enjoy
them although not handling them, so that the
house was not denuded of its ornamentation
2~
because there was a baby in it.
[58]
Training in Obedience
When he became old enough to walk and
the little hands threatened to be troublesome,
mamma taught him that he must put his hands
behind him. “Look with your eyes and not with
5
your fingers,” she would say, and it was really
interesting to see how he would instinctively put
his hands behind him when examining some
object of interest.
He was forbidden to go near the stove, and, in
order to impress this prohibition upon him, he
was allowed to touch the stove when it was
not hot enough to burn him severely and yet
enough to give him some pain. After that, there
was no trouble in that regard.
When he became old enough to be allowed to
play out in the yard, the command was given that
he must not go outside the gate. Not feeling
quite sure that he understood this prohibition, or
thinking the temptation might prove too strong
to be resisted, Mrs. Farwell spent the first after-
noon in watching what he would do. For a time
the other attractions seemed sufficient to keep
him away from the forbidden place, but at
length his attention was drawn to the possible
delights outside the boundary, and he found
[59]
Making the Best of Our Children
his way through the gate and out on the sidewalk.
This was delightful freedom, but not long to
be enjoyed. Mamma procured a soft rope which
she tied to his waist, and fastened the other end
to a tree inside the yard, giving him rope enough
to reach the gate, but not go outside. He, of
course, was not pleased with this restriction.
Mamma talked with him very seriously and ex-
plained that he must not go outside the gate, and
then released him. Again he disobeyed and
again was promptly tied, and this was repeated
until he came to understand, without any scold-
ing or without the infliction of physical pain, that
the yard was a domain wherein he could play with
perfect freedom, but if he went outside he lost
this freedom. It therefore remained for him to
decide which he would do, - be free within
the prescribed limits or, going beyond, lose his
freedom.
Many and ingenious were the methods Mrs.
Farwell employed to show the little one what was
meant by “No, no, baby must not do this.” It
took time and patience in the outset, but it saved
much time and patience in the end, for by the
time he could thoroughly understand what was
[60 |
Training in Obedience
said to him, he had learned that mamma's pro-
hibitions had actual meaning, and the penalties
which followed their disobedience were swift and
sure, and, while not inflicting physical pain, se-
riously interfered with his pursuit of happiness.
[61 |
VI
EARLY ATTITUDE TOWARD
HOUSEWORK
(THREE YEARS)
VI
EARLY ATTITUDE TOWARD
HOUSEWORK
(THREE YEARS)
JNo. 1
ITTLE Agnes Martin has a broom and a
dustpan among her Christmas gifts. She
is very anxious to use them, but has only
succeeded in annoying her mother with them.
When she sees her mother preparing for
sweeping-day, she is overjoyed.
“Oh, I can help sweep, can’t I, mamma P” and
she runs away to bring her broom. She returns
with eyes shining with anticipation, and begins
flourishing her broom over the carpet here and
there in a very irregular way.
“Stop that l” calls out Mrs. Martin. “You
can’t sweep. You are raising a dust and making
me more work. You are a regular little nuisance.
I wish you had n’t been given a broom. There 'll
be no peace with you now.”
b [65
Making the Best of Our Children
“But I want to help you sweep,” persists the
child.
“Well, you can’t help; so run away and stop
your crying. I’ll warrant that when you are old
enough to help you won’t be so anxious. Clear
out now ! Come, get out from under my feet!”
The child obeys, but the brightness has
gone from her face, the light from her eyes.
Three hours later, Mrs. Martin begins setting
the table for dinner, and again little Agnes
pleads to be allowed to help.
“You can’t help,” says her mother, “you’d
drop and break things. I wish you'd keep out
of my way. I’m in a hurry. Go to your play
and don’t bother me.”
It is three years later and baking-day. Agnes,
now seven years old, wants to help, but, as
usual, Mrs. Martin refuses her aid. “You can’t
help,” she repeats, as before. “You are only in
the way. I’d rather you ’d clear out entirely.”
“Susie Morrow’s mamma lets her cut out
cookies, and help get the dinner, and do lots of
things,” pleads Agnes.
“Well, I can’t help that. I can’t be bothered.”
“It is n’t bother, it’s help,” persists Agnes.
[66 |
Early Attitude toward Housework
“Yes; you call it help, but I’d rather do it
alone than show you how. Clear out, now !
When you are older, you can help; only, of
course, you won’t want to, then. Children never
want to do the things they can do, but are always
teasing to do what they can’t do.” *
It is a Saturday morning seven years later.
Mrs. Martin has an excruciating headache,
and comes into the sitting-room to rest a few
moments. Here she finds Agnes, a large girl
of fourteen, busy reading a book.
“Oh, here you are,” exclaims Mrs. Martin,
irritatedly. “Reading, as usual. I warrant you
have n’t done a single stroke of work this morn-
ing. Have you taken care of your room P”
Agnes gives an inarticulate reply and continues
reading.
“Go and sweep your room and put it in order,”
commands Mrs. Martin. “Then I want you to
help get dinner. There 's to be company, you
know.”
“I don’t know how to get dinner,” Agnes
says, sullenly, as she leaves the room.
“That’s always the way,” sighs Mrs. Martin.
“I’ve slaved to save her, thinking she'd be
[67 |
Making the Best of Our Children
grateful, but she is n’t one bit. She does n’t
care that I’m sick and tired out. She 'd never
offer to do a thing for me. Solomon was right,
it is sharper than a serpent’s tooth to have a
thankless child.”
Agnes pays no attention to the suggestion that
she is to get dinner; so Mrs. Martin gets it
herself, but at its close tells her daughter to
wash the dishes.
“I hate dish-washing,” pouts Agnes. “I
hate housework. I never mean to do one bit
of it when I’m grown up.”
“It’s very little of it you’ve done yet,” says
Mrs. Martin. “I thought if I saved you when
you were young, you ’d repay me by saving me
as you grew up ; but I was mistaken.”
“I’ll tell you where you made your mistake,”
says the girl. “You would n’t let me work when
I wanted to, and now I don’t know how and
don’t love work, and I’m not to blame.”
“Oh, of course you'll blame me. I might
have known that would be the thanks I’d get”;
and Mrs. Martin sobs in self-pity, while her
daughter sullenly washes the dishes, feeling
sorry only for herself.
[68 |
Early Attitude toward Housework
Mo. 2
AMONG her Christmas gifts little Lois Barrows
has received a broom and dustpan. She sees
with great delight her mother's preparations for
the next sweeping-day and runs to find her
implements.
“I can help sweep, mamma,” she exclaims
joyfully, as she begins flirting her broom vigor-
ously over the carpet.
“Yes, dear,” replies Mrs. Barrows, who
believes her child to be of more importance
than things. “You can help if you will do just
what mamma wants you to. First, you can take
these books and put them on the sofa as mamma
dusts them.”
With shining eyes and a feeling of great im-
portance at being mamma's helper, little Lois
carries the books. “What next, mamma P” she
asks.
“Now you can help me put the sheets over
the furniture.” -
“Why do you do that?” queries the child, as
she straightens out the sheet over the sofa.
[69 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“To keep the dust off,” answers Mrs. Bar-
rows. “Now we’ll open the windows, and
then you can go and sweep the porch while I
sweep here. Let us see which can sweep her
room the best.”
By this ruse she gets the child out of the dust of
her sweeping, but does not deprive her of the
privilege of helping. Occasionally she goes
to the door to oversee the sweeping of the
porch and to make encouraging suggestions.
“Can I help dust, mamma P” asks Lois.
“Yes, dear; here is a cloth, and this is the way
to dust a chair. You see, it will help mamma a
great deal if you do it well, for then she won’t have
to stoop so much.”
The child is really anxious to do her work
right, and soon learns to see the dust and remove
it, to shake her dust cloth out of doors, as
mamma does, and surveys her finished work
with great pride. Her eyes glow under her
mother's just commendation. “I’m your little
helper, am n’t I, mamma P”
“Indeed you are and always will be.”
It is three hours later. “Can I set the
table P” asks little Lois.
[70 |
Early Attitude toward Housework
“You can help. Go to the other end of the
table and pull the cloth straight as I throw it to
you. Now you can put on the knives, forks,
spoons, and napkins.”
“And dishes, too, mamma P”
“Not quite yet, dearie. We’ll have to save
some work for you to learn when you are older.
It will not be long until you can set the table all
by yourself.”
“Goody 1" says the child.
It is three years later and baking-day.
“Can I help ?” asks the little Lois.
“Oh, yes, dear, of course you can. I’d hardly
know how to do without you. You know how
to do so many things now. You may beat these
eggs. Then you can bring up some apples and
chop them after I have peeled them.”
“What next P Can I cut out the cookies P”
“Certainly.”
“And ornament the pies?”
“To be sure. We would nºt know our pies if
you did not ornament them. Then you can
wash the potatoes for dinner, fill the kettle with
water, wash the rice, fill the salt-cellars, and set
the table.”
[71]
Making the Best of Our Children
While Lois is busy with these tasks, her.
tongue is clattering merrily, and Mrs. Barrows
learns much of the school life of her daughter,
much about her companionship, much concern-
ing her thoughts and feelings, and feels that the
most important results of the morning are not
the bread, pie, and cake, or the well-cooked
dinner, but the sympathy, confidence, and
companionship that grow out of the hours spent
with her child. -
It is a Saturday morning seven years later.
Mrs. Barrows and Lois have been busy working
together, and now sit down for a moment’s rest.
“You look tired, mother,” says Lois, lovingly.
“I’ve had a headache all the morning,”
replies Mrs. Barrows.
“Then you’re not going to do another bit of
work. You just lie here till dinner is ready.”
“But you know, dear, papa is going to bring
home company to dinner.”
“Well, what of that?” laughs the girl. “I
think it’s a pity if I can’t get dinner, such an
experienced housekeeper as I am.”
“Oh, I know you are competent,” says Mrs.
Barrows, smiling.
[72]
Early Attitude toward Housework
“Then let me prove it. Surely I ought to ‘do
you proud.’ You have been such a faithful,
patient teacher. I must have been an awful
nuisance when I was little, always wanting to
help. Did nºt you often want to drive me away ?”
Mrs. Barrows gently smooths the girl’s hair
from her forehead, as she lovingly replies:
“Your help was not always the most efficient,
but I never wanted to drive you away. I was too
anxious to keep you close to me, and now I am
having my reward.”
Lois kisses her mother tenderly. “I’m so glad
you were patient with me, for now I know how
to work and I love it. Agnes Martin is to
be married next month, and she says she hates
work and means never to do any. I wonder
what kind of a house she 'll have. She thinks
her mother will live with her and work for her,
as she always has done. But, mother, I’d be
ashamed to do that. It seems to me the least a
girl can do is to take the burden of her own life
when she is married. I’d like to have you always
with me, but I mean to work for you, to pay for
what you’ve done for me.”
[73]
VII
INCONSISTENCY VERSUS
CONSISTENCY
(THREE YEARS)
VII
INCONSISTENCY VERSUS
CONSISTENCY
(THREE YEARS)
JVo. 1
GROUP of people are sitting under some
apple trees. The ground is covered with
apples. A little boy begins to pick them up and
to eat them. The father, noticing this, cries
out, “Stop eating those green apples, Ralph.”
The child pays no attention to the command.
“Stop eating those green apples, I say. They
will make you sick. They are green and not fit
to eat.” -
“But, papa, they are good.”
“No, they are not, and you must not eat them.
Now, mind me, or I will have to punish you.”
After a time, observing that the child still
continues to eat the apples, the father calls out:
“If you will persist in eating those apples, Ralph,
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Making the Best of Our Children
pick out those that are the ripest. Here, bring
those to me and let me see them.”
The child not obeying, the father rises and
goes to him, takes an apple out of his hand and
throws it away, picks up another and hands it
to the child, saying, “This is a better one.”
Then, taking out his knife, he peels several
apples and gives them to the boy, who accepts
and eats them without a word of comment from
either.
A few minutes later the father observes the
boy trying to climb a tree, and calls out: “Stop
climbing that tree, you'll tear your clothes.
You are always in some mischief.”
The child persists in trying to climb up the
trunk of the tree, which is too large for him to
compass. After watching his futile efforts for a
time and telling him to desist, the father at last
says: “Well, if you are going to climb that tree
anyway, why don’t you take that box to stand
on P Here, you bring the box and I’ll give you
a boost. There, now, you are up in the tree.
See if you can’t sit still on those lower branches.”
The father returns to his conversation. The
boy, instead of sitting still, climbs everywhere
[78 )
Inconsistency versus Consistency
at the risk of limbs and clothes, and, in spite of
warnings and scoldings, continues to climb until
he wants to get down, when the father comes to
his aid and sets him on the ground rather
roughly, saying to his friends as he does so :
“I never saw such a persistent little rascal.
He always manages in some way to get what he
wants.” The child overhears the remark and
smiles. It is not hard to foresee the result of
such training — a persistently disobedient son,
made so by the father's unwisdom, finally, per-
haps, bringing disgrace to himself and sorrow to
the father.
No. 2
As before, an orchard and the ground strewn
with apples. A child begins to pick up the
apples and bite them. Noting this, the father
says: “Please bring me some of those apples. I
want to see if they are ripe enough to eat.”
The child obeys. The father examines the
fruit, saying: “These are all too green to eat. I
will see if I can find you a good one. Here, this
is fairly good. I will peel it for you.”
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Making the Best of Our Children
After peeling a couple of apples for the child
the father says: “That will do now. You must
eat no more to-day. To-morrow we will see if we
can find some good ones.”
The child, seeing that the father is not exercis-
ing an arbitrary power of dictation but is seeking
his best interests, yields readily to the command
and seeks other pleasures. He soon begins to
climb a big apple tree. The father, who is ever
watchful, observes this and says: “Look at your
coat, John; see how you have soiled it. It will
never do to make extra labor for mamma in this
way.”
“But, papa, I want to get up in the tree. I
won’t tear my clothes.”
“If I will help you up in the tree, will you sit
quietly on those lower branches I can’t let you
climb to-day. Another day when you have on
your old clothes you shall climb, for I want you
to learn to be a good climber. Are you willing
just to sit up there?”
“Yes, papa.”
The father helps him to his seat and returns
to his friends.
Presently the boy calls out: “Can’t I climb up
[80]
Inconsistency versus Consistency
just to those branches there? I won’t tear my
clothes.”
The father looks up pleasantly, saying: “A
bargain 's a bargain, is n’t it? I kept my part of
the agreement. If you can’t keep yours, I will
come and help you down. Business men keep a
contract.”
The boy laughs and sits still a while. Then he
calls out, “I’m ready to come down, papa.”
The father gives his assistance to the boy,
who thanks him, saying, as he runs away, “I’ll
make a good business man, won't I?”
“He’s such a dear little chap,” says the father,
as he rejoins his friends. “Full of mischief and
life, but he knows I am his friend and that I
forbid him nothing unless I think it is for his
good. We have many jolly larks together, he
and I, and he says we will be partners in business
some day, and I think we will.”
[81 |
VIII
TWO CHRISTMAS DAYS
(FOUR YEARS)
VIII
TWO CHRISTMAS DAYS
(FOUR YEARS)
JVo. 1
HRISTMAS was coming, and there was a
great air of mystery about the house, but
little Paul seemed to be shut out of everything.
He could not go shopping with Aunt Esther any
more, for he must not see what she was buying.
Mamma, too, seemed to want to leave him at
home when she went out, and that was quite un-
usual. Mamma and Aunt Esther had so many
secret conferences together that it was very an-
noying. Whenever he went to their rooms he
found the door shut and locked; or, if it was
unfastened, he had no more than got it open
wide enough to catch a tiny glimpse inside than
some one called out sharply: “Run away, Paul,
this minute. You must not come in here. If
you are a naughty boy and go peeping about so,
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Making the Best of Our Children
Santa Claus won’t bring you any Christmas
presents.”
This hurt Paul’s feelings, and he would go
away and cry by himself. He was n’t a naughty
boy; he was n’t peeping about. He only wanted
to be where mamma and Aunt Esther were. He
wanted a share in the fun that made them laugh
so much when they were shut up together. He
wanted to know what that wonderful thing
might be that was to make some one so happy
and some one’s eyes shine and dance when he
saw it. What could it be P And who was “he.”
anyway? Little Paul was only four, and could
not be expected to understand all the mysteries
of Christmas. He knew there was some one for
whom they were preparing a great surprise, and
he was n’t in it. Poor little Paul
Many and mysterious were the parcels that
came to the house as Christmas drew nigh, but
Paul was scarcely allowed to touch the tied-up
bundles which disappeared so quickly after they
came, much less permitted to open one. At the
least manifestation of curiosity he was called
“naughty,” and threatened with being overlooked
by Santa Claus on Christmas Day.
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Two Christmas Days
“I don’t care if I am,” he declared one day, in
a sullen fit at the wearisome threat. “He’s a
mean old fellow if he forgets a little boy that
does n’t have any fun anyhow.”
You see, little Paul had no brothers or sisters,
and so he had to depend on mamma and Aunt
Esther for company. Usually they were very
companionable, but now they were too busy to
play with him, to read to him, or to tell him stories.
When he complained, he was told to wait until
after Christmas, they were too busy now. He
felt that he 'd be glad when Christmas was over.
Still, there was the Christmas tree to look for-
ward to. That would be fine. Maybe they would
let him help put the pretty things on it.
Sometimes in his loneliness he would stand at
the window, looking at the children going by in
happy groups, chattering so merrily. He wished
he could go with them, but mamma never would
let him go out to play with other children.
There was one little boy just across the street.
He knew his name — Philip. He had no
brother or sister, either, and his mamma did not
let him play in the street; but he seemed to be
having lots of fun going out with different
[87 |
Making the Best of Our Children
grown-up people and coming back carrying such
lovely bunchy bundles.
Once Paul tapped on the window and beckoned
little Philip to come across the street and visit
him; but Philip shook his head smilingly, as he
took the hand of his big uncle and trotted away.
One day mamma took Paul out shopping to
buy the things he was to give to Aunt Esther and
Uncle Rob and all the rest; but she did not let
him look at the really pretty things, or buy the
things he thought Aunt Esther or grandma
would like. She made him buy grown-up books,
cut-glass dishes, and such useless presents, in-
stead of pretty books with bright-colored pic-
tures, and splendid big sleds and engines, and lots
of pink candy, and such practical things. Then
mamma paid for all the purchases out of her
pocketbook, and when he took his pennies and
nickels out of his tiny purse to pay, she just
laughed and told him he'd better keep his
money. He did not feel that the gifts would
come from him at all, - but it did n’t matter.
Santa Claus would bring them all lots of fine
presents. He did n’t see why he should pretend
to give them anything, anyway.
[88 |
Two Christmas Days
Two days before Christmas, Aunt Esther took
little Paul to spend the day with grandma, and
when they came back the parlor door was locked
and kept locked all the time. The grown-up
people had the key and went in and out as they
pleased, but he was not even allowed to look in
at the keyhole. Aunt Esther found him trying
it, and she marched him upstairs by the arm,
telling him that he never would see what was in
that room if he did nºt stop peeping.
“Is it the Christmas tree ?” he asked.
“Little boys should n’t ask questions,” said
Aunt Esther, “if they want Christmas trees.
If they are too curious, Santa Claus will take the
tree right up the chimney, and all the presents
too.”
Of course, after that there was nothing to do
but to keep still.
The night before Christmas came at last. All
day long mamma and the others had been flitting
in and out of the parlor; but Paul, if caught hov-
ering near, was unceremoniously pushed aside or
sent off upstairs out of the way.
Late in the afternoon little Paul was dressed
in his very best and told that after supper he
| 89 |
Making the Best of Our Children
should see something very fine if he did not soil
his clothes before that time. So he wandered in
loneliness about the house until supper, after
which everybody seemed to be in a state of sup-
pressed excitement, as Uncle Rob and Aunt
Esther went into the parlor and shut the door.
It seemed to Paul that they had been gone for
years, when suddenly the doors flew open and
every one rushed towards the parlor with “Ohs 1”
and “Ahs 1” All but little Paul, who stood as if
dazed by the glare and glitter of a myriad of tiny
lights in the midst of a glittering greenness which
seemed to him at first to be without meaning.
At length he saw it was a splendid big Christmas
tree, covered with little candles and shimmering
wreaths of silvery and golden fluffiness, amidst
which hung other shining objects.
“How do you like it, Paul ?” “Is n’t it fine P”
“Why don’t you say something?” cried the
older people; and Paul awoke from his dazed
condition to find every eye fixed on him, just as
if it mattered what he thought.
Then they began to bring to him various par-
cels from the tree. He opened them to find won-
drous gifts, and each presentation aroused the
[90
Two Christmas Days
volley of questions: “Don’t you like it?”
“Why don’t you say something P” until he was
bewildered.
“I believe he does n’t care a bit for all the nice
things we bought him, nor for all the time and
pains we took to get up the beautiful tree. I de-
clare It does n’t pay to sacrifice yourself for
children.”
Little Paul looked on while Uncle Rob ran the
marvellous train of cars which he had given the
little fellow, but very soon after, when Paul was
left to himself, he had nearly destroyed it in ,
a search for the power that made it go, and was
whipped for naughtiness.
He soon grew tired of the multitude of expen-
sive gifts that had been showered upon him. By
bedtime, he was unbearably cross and was car-
ried to bed crying. He had spoken no word of
thanks to those who had so enjoyed it, be-
cause he had formed no part of it save that of
a looker-on.
After he had gone to bed, Uncle Rob and Aunt
Esther, papa and mamma, grandma, and all the
grown-ups agreed that it really was a thankless
task trying to make children happy.
[91]
Making the Best of Our Children
JVo. 2
LITTLE Philip was very happy. Christmas was
coming, and there were so many delightful things
to do, so many momentous secrets to share with
mother and Aunt Jessie. -
Mother was helping the little fellow to make a
pincushion for grandmother and a needle-case
for Aunt Jessie. It took a long time, for there
were many stitches to be taken, and small fingers
work slowly. But it was a happy time, for he
and mother sat and sewed together, and mother
was always such an interesting companion.
Then it was such fun to hurry and put the work
away if they heard grandmother or Aunt Jessie
coming upstairs; and such fun to try to look as if
there were no mysterious goings on in mother's
I’OODOl.
Quite often he went to grandmother's for the
afternoon, and while there he was busy making
a book-mark for mother, and cutting dainty
squares of brightly colored tissue paper to make
a shaving-pad for father. Then there were
many things to buy, and Uncle Dick was such a
[92 |
Two Christmas Days
good one to go shopping with. He always knew
where the really interesting things were, and
spent no time looking foolishly at those that
were of no practical account.
Uncle Dick knew the value of a steam-engine
that would run on a real track, and was inter-
ested in jumping-jacks, tops, and all such items
of real worth. They made a good many trips to
a good many stores, just like the grown-up shop-
pers, that they might know what was in the
market and just how much they should pay for
things. It was Uncle Dick who went with him
when he made his purchases; but Uncle Dick
knew how to treat a little man who was engaged
in such momentous business. He made sug-
gestions, so that the dollar and eighty-four cents
could be made to go a great way, but he did not
dictate as to what should be bought, and when
little Philip had made a decision, Uncle Dick
always approved.
More than this, Uncle Dick thought it just the
thing for him to carry his purchases home him-
self, instead of trusting them to the uncertain
chances of a careless delivery man; hence the
lovely bunchy bundles that awakened the envy
| 93 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
of lonely little Paul, standing at the window
across the street. At last it was Aunt Jessie
who went with him to buy something for Uncle
Dick. It took several trips to find just the right
thing, but little Philip was very happy when it
was at last found. *
The happiest time of all was when little Philip
went with father to buy the Christmas tree.
Such a very critical purchaser was he The tree
must be very straight and tall and symmetrical,
and it was difficult to find one perfect enough.
However, one was found at last, sent home, and
installed in the library two days before Christ-
mas. How grand and beautiful it looked And
what fun it would be to put on it all the pretty
things he had for it!
There was no question as to who should trim
the tree, – the young men of the family, Philip
and Uncle Dick, of course. It took nearly all
day, and no one else was allowed to go into the
room. It must be a surprise. Uncle Dick hung
the ornaments on the higher branches, but to
little Philip was entrusted all the lower boughs.
At last everything was on but the angel with the
trumpet, which they decided ought to go on the
[94 |
Two Christmas Days
very top. With longing eyes Philip looked at the
angel and at the top of the tree, but his longing
was changed to ecstasy when Uncle Dick lifted
the little chap in his arms and carried him to the
top of the step-ladder, holding him very fast
while he fixed the angel in its place.
“What lots of things Santa Claus has brought
us this year !” said Philip, as he took a number
of parcels from Aunt Jessie's hands at the door,
not even letting her get a peep into the room, and
putting them on the floor around the tree.
“Let me see,” said Uncle Dick. “Santa Claus
lives in Africa, does n’t he, and drives a pair of
ostriches P”
“Oh, Uncle Dick | don’t you know about
Santa Claus P”
“I thought I did, but maybe I have forgotten.
You tell me about him, and I’ll see if I remem-
ber the story.”
“Santa Claus lives at the North Pole, and he
rides in a sleigh filled with toys and drawn by
reindeer. They ride over the world on Christ-
mas Eve, above the roofs of the houses, and
Santa goes down the chimneys and leaves
presents in the stockings of good boys and girls.”
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Making the Best of Our Children
“That’s a pretty big contract for one man, to
go over the whole world in one night. I’m afraid
that is n’t a true story. No man could do that,
now, could he, Philip P Honestly, as between
man and man, you don’t believe that yarn, do
you?”
“Why, of course, Santa Claus is n’t a real
man, but he has a real meaning, mother says.”
“What does he mean P” -
“Why, Santa Claus means the Spirit of Love.”
“Well, what does the Spirit of Love mean?
I’m very stupid, you know.” There was a
twinkle in Uncle Dick's eye that did n’t look at
all as if he were stupid, and Philip enjoyed Uncle
Dick's way.
“You know what it is to love?” said Philip.
Uncle Dick nodded.
“Well, you know, if you love people you want
to give them things and be with them and make
them happy. It is the Spirit of Love that makes
you want to do this. On a Christmas night long
ago, God so loved the world, mother says, that
he gave to it the little child Jesus, and ever since
then Christmas has been the children's day.
People wanted to make children happy and to
[96] -
Two Christmas Days
give them things, and they did n’t always want
the children to know who gave them the beau-
tiful gifts, and so they called the Spirit of Love
“Santa Claus.” Mother says he comes from the
North to show that love can make the coldest
place lovely. He comes down the chimney, be-
cause love comes from above and makes our
hearts glow like the fire; and he puts the pres-
ents into our stockings, because love looks after
our needs, just as mother mends my clothes be-
cause she loves me. Mother has told me the
story so many times that I almost know it by
heart. Is n’t it a lovely story P. Whenever any
one says, “Santa Claus gave me this,” I think
about this story of Santa Claus.”
“It is a beautiful story,” said Uncle Dick;
and the shine in his eyes seemed dim, just as if
his eyes were wet.
Now the tree was all trimmed. There would
be two hours before supper and no one could see
the tree until after that. Little Philip was tired,
and very glad to follow mother's suggestion that
he go and lie down and think about the tree and
all its glories.
There was no question as to who was to be
7 [97]
Making the Best of Our Children
Master of Ceremonies. As soon as supper was
over, Uncle Dick and Philip withdrew to the
library and went through the solemn rite of
lighting the candles. Little Philip lighted those
on the lower branches, Uncle Dick keeping close
at hand to prevent accident.
When all was done, Philip clasped his hands in
one moment of silent ecstasy before the doors
were opened. Then he and Uncle Dick drew
back the doors, and with “Ahs l” and “Ohs l’’
the people came crowding in.
Was it not a beautiful tree? So straight and
tall ! And how it did shine and glitter and
sparkle, and — s's
“Oh, mother, Uncle Dick let me put the angel
on the tip-tip-tippest top of all.”
When the company were quietly seated, Uncle
Dick began handing to Philip the different gifts.
He took them to the respective owners, and
stood waiting in joyous expectancy until the
parcel had been opened and admired by every
one. Then, and not till then, would they pass
on to the next gift.
When mother opened her bundle and found in
it a miniature moulding-board and rolling-pin,
[98 ||
Two Christmas Days
she looked at her little son as if thinking there
must have been a mistake.
He hastened to explain. “You see, mother, I
thought it would be so lovely for you to keep me
out of your way when I am helping you bake.”
“Oh, yes, Isee, dear. It was a lovely thought”;
and she kissed the eager little face most tenderly.
“I knew you ’d like chocolates 1” Philip ex-
claimed, as Aunt Jessie opened his gift to her,
and he laughed as she recognized the fact that
he too loved chocolates.
“And what am I to do with this?” asked
father, holding up a bright china mug labelled
“For a Good Boy.”
“Why, father, you can drink out of it, you
know, and then when we have company and
they take my silver mug I thought — maybe —
you ’d let me use yours.” His voice faltered a
little with the last words, for a momentary doubt
had assailed him. Maybe father would not want
him to use his beautiful mug.
“I’d be very careful of it,” he added a little
timidly.
“To be sure,” assented father, heartily.
“Just the thing. And I’ll let you use it
[99] *
Making the Best of Our Children
suinelines when we have nºt company, ” he
added generously.
Philip's face flushed with delight as he slipped
his hand for a moment into his father's.
Bedtime will come, even on Christmas Eve;
but it was a happily tired little chap who climbed
the stairs that night.
“Mother,” he said, as he knelt to say his
prayers, “is n’t Christmas the beautifulest, beau-
tifulest day of all the year? I want to thank
God for Santa Claus.”
[ 100 |
Ix
THE LESSON OF TWO LOST CHILDREN .
- (FOUR YEARS)
IX
THE LESSON OF TWO LOST CHILDREN
(FOUR YEARS)
JNo. 1
HE day was bright and fair. The big
steamer was several hours out and the
passengers were enjoying themselves, when Sud-
denly a rumor passing from one to another put
a stop to all pleasant sociability.
“A child missing. A little girl four years old
with blue eyes and fair hair. She was last seen
in the cabin by the parents an hour ago.”
Immediately every one was on the alert. The
child could not be missing on a big steamer
and be absolutely lost unless it had fallen over-
board. What was that white thing out there in
the blue waters? What did that 'splash mean a
few minutes ago? And so the excitement in-
creased, and an anxious man and an hysterical
woman went up and down asking everybody,
[ 103 ] -
Making the Best of Our Children
“Have you seen a little girl?” The answer was
always in the negative, until a sailor replied that
he had seen the child a half-hour previous going
with a man into the steerage, where, he said, a
revival service was being held. Possibly she
might be there. The mother shuddered at the
thought of her darling being mingled with
the dreadful creatures in the steerage, while the
father lost no time in descending the stairway
leading thither. The sound of the preacher’s
voice showed him the direction in which to go,
and at length he came upon a room in which
were seated a number of the steerage passengers,
being addressed by a man in ministerial garb.
Looking in, the father saw, on one of the front
seats, his little daughter sitting on the knee of a
strange man. Regardless of the fact that it was
a religious service, the father spoke aloud as soon
as he entered the room:
“Come here this minute, Helen. You were
a very naughty little girl to run away in this
manner, and your mother will give you a good
whipping when she gets hold of you, I can tell
you. Come here to me, I say.”
The preacher, disturbed by this harangue,
[104 |
The Lesson of Two Lost Children
paused in his sermon, saying mildly but reprov-
ingly, “My dear sir, don’t you see that you are
interrupting our meeting P”
“I don’t care if I am. I have a right to
interrupt it. Here we have been looking for
this child for the last hour and thought she had
fallen overboard. What right had you,” he
continued, turning to the man on whose knee
the little girl sat, “to take this child away without
her parents’ knowledge P I’ll let you know, sir,
that you are no gentleman —”
Cries of “Shame, shame,” rose from the
passengers, but, giving them no heed save to
desist in his tirade, the angry father seized his
little daughter by the arm and dragged her,
crying and pleading, from the room. Along the
passage and up the stairs he continued his
Scolding until he reached the weeping mother,
who was wringing her hands and begging that
some one would find her lost darling, “the
dearest, sweetest child in the whole world.”
Catching sight of the little girl as she came up
the steps, pushed onward by the still grumbling
father, the mother's tune suddenly changed
“Oh, there you are, you little runaway !
[ 105 |
\
Making the Best of Our Children
Where have you been, frightening us all to death
in this way P You deserve a good whipping, and
you’ll get it, too, when I get hold of you. There
never was such a troublesome little nuisance,
always into some sort of mischief. What did
you run away and get lost for P” she continued,
giving the little girl a sound box on the ear as
she spoke.
“I did n’t run away, mother, and I was n’t
lost. I was with the man all the time.” -
“Well, we did n’t know where you were, and
we don’t know him.”
“He is a very nice man, mother. He gave me
some candy.”
“That does n’t prove that he is nice. He just
meant to coax you off and shut you up in a
black hole in the ground. And then he would
have cut off your ears, too, and maybe would
have sold you to an ugly black man who
would have put you in a big bag and thrown
you in the river —”
Frightened by the dreadful picture, the child
burst into a paroxysm of tears which increased
as the scolding continued, until the mother,
quite frightened by the storm she had raised,
[ 106 |
The Lesson. of Two Lost Children.
began to try to quiet her daughter by kisses and
promises of candy, saying soothingly: “Mother
did n’t mean to scare you so. There won’t be
any black man get you as long as you stay close
to mother. Come, now, be good. Let’s see
what we can find in mother's bag for you.
Don’t cry any more. that 's mother's darling.
Mother will buy you a pretty dolly when we get
home.” So the promises were continued, until
the child dried her tears, thinking that running
away paid pretty well after all.
No. 2
THE pleasant sociability of the passengers on
one of the Great Lake steamers was disturbed
by the rumor that a child was missing. An
anxious father and mother were going hurriedly
from group to group, inquiring if any one had
seen a little girl about four years old with blue
eyes, long braids of hair, pink dress, etc.
“The one that used to sing so nicely P” asked
the sailor who overheard the inquiry.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Oh, I saw her going with one of the
| 107 |
Making the Best of Our Children
passengers towards the steerage, and I should
not wonder if she is there now. They are
having some kind of a meeting down there.”
Hastily the father and mother together found
their way to the steerage, and, looking into the
room, saw a man in the dress of a minister,
standing facing the small but attentive audience
to which he was preaching. In the front row
they saw their little girl sitting on the knee of a
strange gentleman.
“She is perfectly safe,” whispered the father to
his wife. “You go upstairs to our stateroom and
rest. I will bring her up presently.”
Stepping quietly across the room, so as not to
disturb the minister, the father took an empty
seat beside the strange gentleman who was
holding the little girl upon his knee. The child,
looking up, saw her father, and, quickly slipping
from the arms that held her, in a moment was
in the father's lap, with her head resting quietly
against his shoulder, while they both respectfully
listened to the speaker. At the close of the
service Mr. Mather spoke to the strange gentle-
man, saying: “You have given us quite a fright
by taking our little girl without our knowledge.”
[ 108 ||
The Lesson of Two Lost Children
“Oh, I am very sorry,” said the strange
man, “I had no intention of giving you any
uneasiness.”
Without further words Mr. Mather carried
his little daughter to the stateroom, where the
mother was lying down, resting after her anxiety.
She welcomed the little girl joyfully but quietly,
and asked her to lie down on the bed beside her.
“We have been very anxious about you, my
dear,” she said. “I am sure you did not mean
to give us so much trouble.”
“Trouble P” replied the child; “why, how
did I give you trouble P”
“We thought you were lost.”
“Why, mother, I was n’t lost. I could not be.
I was with that strange gentleman all the time.”
“Yes, dear, but we did n’t know that, and if
we had known it, we should not have been
certain that you were safe, because we did not
know him.”
“Well, mother, he is a very nice man. He
gave me some candy.”
“No doubt he is a very nice man, but I would
much rather you would not take candy from
strangers, for all strangers are not to be trusted.
[109]
Making the Best of Our Children
Let mother tell you a true story. A good many
years ago a little boy named Charlie Ross was
playing in the street in front of his father's
house, when a strange man came up to him,
gave him some candy, and invited him to take a
ride. Of course, he thought so kind a gentleman
must be a nice man; so he accepted the candy
and the invitation and went away with his new
friend. He never came back. Charlie Ross’s
father sought for him everywhere, and the
newspapers told us all about the story of the
little boy who disappeared from his home.
Mr. Ross offered a great deal of money for the
return of his son, but without success; and so
little Charlie Ross was lost and was never found,
just because he trusted a nice-appearing man
who gave him candy. Now, father and mother
are willing to give you all the candy you need,
and we are very anxious to take good care of you,
but you must learn something about taking care
of yourself. When you meet strangers on the
street, or when you are travelling, or at any time
when you are away from father and mother, and
they offer you candy, I would rather you would
say, ‘No, thank you,” and come where I am
[110]
The Lesson of Two Lost Children
quickly, for just think how sad would be our
home if our little daughter were taken away.”
“I will never go with any strange man again,
mother dear. I shall always think of Charlie
Ross and come to you just as quick as I can.”
“But suppose that some day you should
really find yourself lost in the streets, what
would you do?”
“Oh, I know, mother,” said the little girl,
sitting up, with eyes shining, and glibly repeating
her previously learned lesson. “I’d go to a
policeman and ask him to take me home. I’d
say, “My name is Alice Jeanette Mather. I live
at Forty-four Bank Street. My father’s name is
James Mather, and he has a hardware store at
Ninety-eight Main Street.”
“That’s good. But if you could n’t see any
policeman, what would you do?”
“I would n’t ask any man on the street. I’d
go into a store and ask one of the clerks to take
care of me while they sent word to my father
where I was. And I’d stay there and wait until
father or you came after me.”
“That would be the right thing to do. But
now you must add a little to your lesson. Repeat
| 111 ||
Making the Best of Our Children
after mother, ‘I will never go away anywhere
with a strange man or woman, not even if I
am offered candy or other nice things. I will
always ask father or mother before I go anywhere
or with anybody, for I am a little girl and do
not know where it is safe for me to go.”
After the little girl had said over her new lesson
until she could repeat it perfectly, the mother
said, “I am glad I have a little daughter whom
I can trust to do just as she has promised.”
said the child, looking up
3.
“Why, of course,”
into her mother's face with clear, trustful eyes,
“we always keep our promises.”
[112 |
X
TURMOIL OR QUIET: A CONTRAST
(FOUR YEARS)
X
TURMOIL OR QUIET: A CONTRAST
(FOUR YEARS)
JWo. 7
RS. BRIDGES was getting breakfast. She
looked weary and discontented. Her
hair was uncombed, her dress untidy, her voice
fretful. -
“Oh dear,” she sighed, “there's that baby
crying again. I did hope she would sleep until
after breakfast. “What do you want?” she
asked sharply, as the figure of a little boy, clad in
his night-clothes, appeared in the doorway. “Go
back to bed immediately, and see if you can’t
amuse the baby a few minutes while I get your
breakfast.”
“I want my breakfast now,” asserted the child.
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re not hungry one bit,” declared the
mother; but, as the boy came into the kitchen,
[ 115 |
Making the Best of our children
took an apple from the table, and began eating it,
she continued, “Well, take the apple and go and
rock the baby. Go, I tell you”; and she made
a threatening motion with her hand towards the
child. He dodged the hand, and, running around
her, seized a cookie from the table and began
eating that also.
“You little rascal l’’ cried the mother, half
laughing at the boy’s “smartness,” as she
mentally called it. “Now, you clear out of here,
quick, and go to your sister, but don’t give her
any apple,” she called, as he ran out of the room,
— but not to the baby, as commanded. The
fretful cries of the little one grew louder and
more insistent, until Mrs. Bridges could stand
it no longer, and, taking up the child from its
reeking crib, she wrapped it in a shawl, and
continued her breakfast-getting, carrying it on
one arm.
“Breakfast is ready,” she called, as she placed
the last dish upon the table. “Where’s Harry P’’
she added, as Mr. Bridges appeared in the dining-
room, giving the last touch to his necktie.
“He was out at the front gate the last I saw of
him,” answered the father.
[ 116 ||
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
Baby on arm, Mrs. Bridges rushed to the door
and called, “Harry ! Harry !” in tones loud
enough to reach the little chap, who, with apple
and cookie, had wandered to the street corner.
“Come here at once, you little nuisance 1”
she continued in the same shrill tones, “your
breakfast is ready.” As he evinced no haste to
obey her command, she added: “I See a police-
man coming. He 'll catch you and take you to
jail if you don’t come.”
Harry cast a frightened glance behind him
and ran with speed to his mother. She grasped
him by an arm as soon as he came within reach,
and, dragging him into the dining-room, raised
him by one arm to a seat in the high-chair and
gave him a final shake, saying: “How often
have I told you not to go in the street before you
are dressed | Some of these days the policeman
will carry you off, and he 'll never bring you
back.”
Harry was safe under his father's protection
now, and the threat did not frighten him. He
began to clamor for breakfast and to reach after
the things that were within the length of his arm.
“George, do help that child,” cried Mrs.
| 117 |
Making the Best of Our Children
Bridges; “you don’t care for any one but your-
self.”
“I’ve only ten minutes to finish my break-
fast in,” replied Mr. Bridges. “I’ve no time to
bother with young 'uns; that 's your business.”
A shake and a slap from the mother settled the
child in his chair, but his vociferations continued.
“Gimme some meat and ’tato; and I want
Some coffee, an’ pancakes, an” pickles, and —
and —” He glanced around to see if he had
omitted anything.
“You can’t have any coffee,” said the mother,
as she piled his plate with food. -
“Yes, I can I will !” And the child began to
SCI’ea,] Yı.
“Well, here, keep still I’’ And she poured some
of the coffee from her cup into that of the child,
adding milk to quiet her conscience. Harry
drained the cup at one draught and held it out
for more.
“You can’t have any more — until you have
eaten your meat and potato,” she added hastily,
seeing signs of rebellion. Harry began to stuff
the food into his mouth with his hands, while
Mrs. Bridges began her own belated breakfast.
| 118 |
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
The baby, however, became clamorous, and was
fed with bits from the mother's plate and sips
of coffee from her cup. Meanwhile Harry, hav-
ing satisfied his appetite and received another
cup of milk and coffee, had begun to pour it out
on his plate and into his tray, dabbling in it with
his fingers. When the mother became aware of
his occupation, she sprang upon him, jerked the
cup from his hands and him from his chair, and
setting him down roughly upon the floor, gave
him a parting shake, and, with the baby still on
her arm, began clearing the table, while Harry
ran out of doors.
“Don’t go outside the yard,” the mother called
after him.
A half-hour later, when Mrs. Bridges was ready
to dress the boy, she found him sitting on the
sidewalk, paddling his bare feet in the gutter.
A jerk brought him to his feet on the sidewalk,
and, loudly rebelling, he was pulled into the
house, where his hands and face were washed
roughly, his hair carelessly brushed, and his
clothes hastily put on him, for the baby was
again demanding attention.
“Now stay in the yard, as I tell you, or I'll
[ 119 |
Making the Best of Our Children
whip you within an inch of your life. Do you
hear?” she called after the boy. But he gave
no evidence of hearing, and, with a sigh, Mrs.
Bridges turned to the care of the baby. Although
it was not half an hour since the infant had
shared in the mother's breakfast, she was again
nursed, while the frown gradually cleared a little
from Mrs. Bridges’ face, and, with something like
joy in her task, she looked down upon the baby in
her arms. After all, there was really no time to
waste in mere enjoyment. She must get her work
done. So with haste the baby was washed and
dressed and again nursed to sleep.
Then Mrs. Bridges gathered up from the bed-
room floor the napkins which had accumulated
during the early morning hours and which filled
the room with a dreadful ammoniacal odor.
These she hung upon a rack to dry, to be used
again, and hurriedly made up the bed, closed the
window, and drew down the shades, leaving the
baby sleeping in a room outwardly neat, but
actually foul with poisonous exhalations. Then,
during the moments of quietness that followed,
she washed her breakfast dishes.
“I suppose that boy is out in the gutter again,”
[120 |
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
she said to herself, “but I won’t bother about
that as long as he is n’t troubling me. It will be
time enough to find him there when I have a
chance to change his clothes and punish him
good.”
When the work was done, she went for Harry.
He was not in the gutter, but across the street,
talking with Mrs. Hall and evidently admiring
her baby. So Mrs. Bridges let him stay with-
out any protest from her.
“I don’t see,” she said to herself, “how Mrs.
Hall gets time to sit down in the yard this time
in the morning. One thing is sure: her chil-
dren are not as troublesome as mine.” And
Mrs. Bridges returned to her work, thankful
that Harry was not in mischief.
The baby was now awake and must be taken
up and nursed; but this time she would not
go to sleep again, although the mother brought
the cradle into the kitchen, where she could jog
it with her foot as she passed to and fro.
At length she was forced to cook the dinner
with the baby on her arm, while Harry, re-
turned from his visit, clung to her skirts and
begged for a “piece.”
[121 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“You’re not hungry one bit. You can’t
have anything till dinner is ready.”
“I want some bread.”
“Well, if you will eat bread, I guess you are
hungry.” And the bread was given.
“Butter,” demanded the child, and butter
was added.
35
“Sugar,” was the next order.
“You can’t have any sugar. You can just eat
it as it is or go without.”
“Sugar ! Sugar !” insisted Harry.
“Oh, well, then, here, take some sugar, and
do let me have a moment’s peace.”
Twice, while getting the dinner, Mrs. Bridges
tried to quiet the cries of the infant with the
breast, but to no avail, and the wails were in loud
| 22
evidence when Mr. Bridges came in at noon.
“What 's the matter P” he demanded. “It
seems to me this child cries most of the time.”
“You’d think so if you had her to take care
of,” answered his wife. “Here, you take her,
and see if you can get her quiet while I put the
dinner on the table.”
Held in the strong arms and carried into the
open air, the baby grew quite still; and the father
| 122 |
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
remarked complacently as he came in, in re-
sponse to the call to dinner, and placed the child
in the mother’s arm:
“You see, if you'd carry her out of doors, as I
do, she'd get still.”
“H’m l’” sniffed Mrs. Bridges, contemptu-
ously. “Much carrying out of doors she'd get
if you were in my place. I have n’t even had
time to comb my hair, much less go gallivanting
outdoors with a baby. Now, Harry, stop mak-
ing that noise with your chair. George, can’t
you put that boy up to the table and give him
something to eat?” -
Mr. Bridges complied, and then the parents
seated themselves, but not to a quiet meal.
Harry was vociferously insistent, Mr. Bridges
sarcastically critical, Mrs. Bridges naggingly re-
sponsive, the baby fretfully uneasy. It was no
wonder that, after her husband had left, Mrs.
Bridges should say to herself with sobs:
“Girls think it a mighty fine thing to get
married; but if they could see what is before
them, I guess some of them would hesitate a
good while.”
[123 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
Mo. 2
MRs. HALL was getting breakfast. Her dress
was tidy, her hair neatly combed, her face had a
happy expression, and she hummed a cheerful
song as she stepped briskly about the neat
kitchen.
A patter of little feet was heard, and a small
boy came running in with a smile on his bright
face, as he exclaimed:
“Oh, mamma, I pretty near, almost dwessed
myself alone. Papa gave me my bath, and
brushed my hair, and helped me put on my
clothes, and fastened them up; and I did all the
rest myself l’’
“You darling !” exclaimed the mother, as she
stooped to give the child a kiss. “You and papa
are great fellows, are n’t you?” {
“Yes, ma’am; we're men, you know. Is
breakfast ready ?”
A hearty masculine laugh greeted this question,
as Mr. Hall made his appearance.
“Your question certainly justifies your decla-
ration of manhood,” he said. “‘We’re men.
| 124 |
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
Is breakfast ready ?? What could be more
logical ?”
“Breakfast is ready, all but putting it on the
table,” said Mrs. Hall, laughing. “Perhaps you
men will help in that.”
“Indeed, we will.” And Mr. Hall took the
dishes his wife handed him, while little Herbert
put the chairs around the table “quietly, so as
not to waken sister.”
The meal was a pleasant one. The little boy
ate his simple fare, making no demands for other
foods which he knew were not allowed him. He
was polite in manner, and evidently felt that he
was a part of the family; for he took part in the
conversation in a perfectly childlike way, but at
the same time with a certain gravity that was
quaintly attractive.
“I am sorry I have to rush off,” said Mr.
Hall, “but I’ve only ten minutes in which to
get to business. Don’t work too hard, little
woman,” he added, as he kissed his wife good-
bye. “Good-bye, little man.”
Herbert wiped his mouth for a kiss, and laughed
roguishly as he called after his father, “Good-
bye, papa, be good to you'self.”
I 125 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“Good-bye, Son, be good to mamma,” was the
response.
“Now, Herbert dear, we must get our work
done before sister wakes up.”
“All right, mamma.” And the child put the
chairs back in place, and began gathering up
the silver on a small tray. Then he put away
the napkins and other unbreakable articles, and,
after that, wiped all the things mamma entrusted
to his care.
“Sister is awake,” he called out at length. “I
hear her coo.”
“So do I; and now, dear, you get the little
bathtub and all the things, and we’ll soon have
her up and dressed.”
Taking the smiling baby from her cradle, Mrs.
Hall set her on her nursery chair while she gath-
ered the little garments together and prepared
for the bath. -
During its progress Herbert stood by, a most
helpful attendant, chatting volubly the while.
After the bath, baby was left for brother to amuse
for a few minutes while mamma cleared away the
tub and other disorder. Then, taking the baby,
she sat down and gave herself and the little one
[I26 |
Turmoil or Quiet: A Contrast
the enjoyment of a leisurely nursing, deriving
from it as much satisfaction as did the child.
This done, baby was put into her perambulator
and taken out into the sweet, pure air, while Mrs.
Hall, after opening her bedroom to the full rays
of the sun, took her mending and went out to
sit with her children. Herbert drew the baby
cab back and forth and pranced around gen-
erally. Baby cooed and talked at first, but, after
a time, sank to sleep and was placed comfortably
on her pillows, while the cab was drawn into
deeper shade and covered with a net to keep
flies and other intruders away.
Dinner was ready, Mr. Hall had come, and
still she slept. He peeped into the cab, and
kissed a dimpled hand that lay temptingly near.
“Dear little one !” he whispered, and then
aloud to his wife: “Does she sleep all the time P
It seems that I have little chance to get acquainted
with her.”
“You have nearly as much as I,” Smiled the
wife. “She sleeps a good deal, and when she 's
awake, I leave her alone to get acquainted with
the world in her own way.”
“Wise little mother l’” said Mr. Hall, fondly.
[I27 |
Making the Best of Our Children
Like the breakfast, the dinner-time was pleas-
ant, undisturbed by any clamor from the little
boy, who ate what was given him, seeming to be
perfectly satisfied therewith. After dinner, baby
waked, and had her noon meal also.
[ 128 |
XI
TWO MOTHERS SHOPPING
-- (FOUR YEARS)
XI
TWO MOTHERS SHOPPING
(FOUR YEARS)
Mo. 1
T was about half-past two when Mrs. Bur-
ton’s mother called. -
“Oh, I am so glad you ’ve come, for I want to
do some s-h-o-p-p-i-n-g,” she spelled, with a
significant glance toward Howard. “You can
stay an hour, can’t you?”
“Just as well as not,” replied Mrs. Graham.
“You won’t be gone long, I suppose P”
“Sh–sh,” with another glance toward Howard.
“No longer than I have to, you may be sure.”
“Where are you going, mamma P" cried
Howard.
“Nowhere,” replied Mrs. Burton, warning
her mother with eye and head-shake not to be-
tray her. “You come now, Howard, and take
your nap.”
[131 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“I don't want any nap. I want to go with
you.”
“I tell you, I’m not going anywhere.
“Here,” whispering to her mother, “you take
Howard into the kitchen and give him an apple.
I have my hat and jacket in the front room, and
can slip away without his knowing it.”
Mrs. Graham nodded understandingly, and
then inquired, “What shall I do if the baby
cries P” **
“Oh, there's milk in the refrigerator, and you
can make her a sugar comforter. That usually
quiets her. Now, Howard, go into the kitchen
with grandma. She wants to give you an apple.”
Howard obeyed, and Mrs. Burton congratu-
lated herself on the success of her ruse; but.
before she had succeeded in placing her hat-pins
in position, Howard was by her side, crying,
“I want to go, too, mamma; take me.”
“Oh dear, I thought I was rid of you ! Well, I
suppose you ’ve made up your mind to go, so I
may as well give in. Come along, then, but
you’ll have to put down that apple.”
Eager to go, the child laid the apple on a chair,
suffered his face to be washed without protest,
[ 132 |
Two Mothers Shopping
and was soon trotting by his mother's side, chat-
ting joyously. But the afternoon did not prove
wholly delightful. He did not walk fast enough,
and so had to be jerked along. He could not
jump over the gutters, and had to be lifted across
by one arm. He was held fast by the hand, with
his nose close up to the dreary dress-goods
counter, hidden smotheringly away in the skirts
of a crowd of women shoppers. His mother
would not buy the toys he wanted, and slapped
him when he demanded them. Altogether, the
trip was a disappointment, only mitigated by the
bag of bonbons from which he smeared his face
and fingers and made himself a being avoided
by all who desired not to have him become
personally adherent to themselves. -
It was five o’clock when Mrs. Burton hurried
pantingly into her home, for the cries of the
baby had reached her even in the street, as she
drew near.
“Oh dear, has she cried all the time P”
“Pretty nearly all the time,” responded Mrs.
Graham, who was walking the floor, tossing the
wailing child from side to side in a vain effort to
still its noise. “I fed her milk, and I made her
| 133
Making the Best of Our Children
some panada and some catnip tea, but nothing
did her any good. She must have colic. See
how she draws up her feet. If I could have
found the paregoric or some whiskey, I could
have got her still.” !
“Here, give her to me,” panted the mother,
not stopping to take off her hat. She was heated
with fast walking, worried by her anxiety, but
she did not hesitate on that account. Hastily she
gave the breast to the baby, who seized it with
apparent avidity.
“See there ! she is 'most starved,” asserted
Mrs. Burton. For a few moments it seemed as if
this might quiet her, but such was not the case.
The cries were soon resumed with increased vio-
lence. In vain did the mother jolt the baby, turn
it on its face across her trotting knee, and pat it
on its back. At last, wearied and discouraged,
a dose of paregoric was administered, and the
little one sank into an unconscious state and
was tucked into its cradle by the worried
mother, who now hurried to get supper. She
made an effort to put Howard to bed before sup-
per, but in vain. The child struggled and
kicked and screamed. He rolled all over the floor
[ 134 |
Two Mothers Shopping
in his efforts to avoid being put into his night-
dress.
“I want my supper! I want my supper!” he
cried at the top of his voice, and was only paci-
fied when the mother assured him he need not go
to bed, but could have his supper. Seated at the
table, he demanded every article of food in sight,
ate a little, mussed a good deal, and at length
went to sleep, nodding over his plate and holding
his mug tightly grasped in one hand and his
fork in the other.
A quiet remainder of the meal was thus as-
sured to the parents, but the little boy, awaking
as he was lifted from his chair, insisted on com-
pleting his meal. After this he had a fine romp
with his father, and was most thoroughly awake
and nervously noisy when his parents desired to
go to bed, knowing that in all probability the
baby would waken just as they were about to go
to sleep. -
“I would nºt care so much about the daytime
if I could only sleep at night,” sighed the weary
mother. “In all probability Howard will have
croup, or want a drink several times, and the
baby will tug at me all night if she does nºt cry
[ 135 |
Making the Best of Our Children
so that I have to walk the floor with her an
hour or two. I declare, I don’t see how mothers
of large families ever live to see their children
grow up. If I do, you may be sure I’ll be
thankful.” >
JNo. 2
It was nearly half-past two when Mrs. Wilson’s
mother came in.
“Oh, I am so glad you’ve come,” said Mrs.
Wilson. “I want to do some shopping this after-
noon. Can you stay a couple of hours?”
“Just as well as not,” replied Mrs. Lane,
taking off her hat.
“Can I go with you, mamma P” asked
Herbert.
“Not to-day, dear. I shall have to hurry, and
you would not find it pleasant. You must take
your nap now, and when you wake up, grandma
will be here to play with you.”
Herbert and grandma Smiled at each other in a
very “chummy” way, and then he followed his
mamma into the bedroom. Face and hands were
washed, shoes and soiled outer garments re-
moved, and then by the aid of a chair the little
[ 136 |
Two Mothers Shopping
boy climbed upon the bed and laid himself
down to sleep.
“Good-bye, mamma,” he said, as she stooped
to kiss him. “Have a good time !” he added, in
the words with which she was wont to send him
off on some little jaunt.
“Now,” said Mrs. Wilson, “I’ll nurse the
baby, and she won’t trouble you till I get back.”
“What shall I do if she cries P Shall I feed
her P”
“No, indeed l’’ exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with
emphasis. “She will not cry, or, if she does, it
will not be from hunger. See if anything is hurt-
ing her; if not, give her a drink of water.
“There, my lady,” as she deposited the baby
in a quilt on the floor, “not a word from you now,
while mamma is gone. Do you hear?” Baby
crowed, and kicked, and flashed her little hands
in response, and seemed to promise to be good.
She saw mamma put on her hat, but she made
no whimper. She knew that if mamma wanted
to take her she would be informed.
It was half-past five when Mrs. Wilson re-
turned. Herbert and grandma were playing
grocery-store very harmoniously.
[ 137 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“Where 's baby P” asked Mrs. Wilson.
“Oh, she went to sleep on the floor, and Ilaid
her on the bed, where it was darker and more
quiet. I have n’t heard a sound from her since.”
“And the little man has been good?”
“As good as pie.”
“Well, now he can have some supper.” And
Mrs. Wilson set a small table for the child, add-
ing to his usual simple fare an orange she had
brought.
“Oh, you thought of me, didn’t you, mamma P”
he asked, delightedly. “You are such a good
mamma.”
As Mr. Wilson could not leave his business till
six, the supper-hour was half-past. It was the
baby’s supper-time, too; but Mrs. Wilson was
trying to lengthen the intervals between baby’s
meals, so Herbert was delegated to amuse her
while the parents ate and chatted over the events
of the day. -
“Now,” said Mrs. Wilson, “you can get ac-
quainted with your daughter while I wash the
dishes.”
“I’d rather get acquainted with my daugh-
ter's mamma, so I’ll help you.” And so the
[138]
Two Mothers Shopping
pleasant chat continued, Mr. Wilson wielding
the wiping towel nearly as deftly as his wife
the dish-cloth.
Then, with his arm around his wife, he took her
into the sitting-room and seated her in an easy-
chair, while he took the baby in his arms. Her-
bert climbed on the father’s knee, and, for a
happy space, the tired business man forgot all
care. Then mamma intervened.
“Kiss papa good-night, Herbert.” There
was no demur at this command. The good-night
kiss was given, and the little boy taken away and
tucked into bed with many kisses, a quiet little
chat, and a story. Then baby was prepared for
the night, the father being the attendant and
admiring the rounded limbs and dimpled shoul-
ders. The night-robing accomplished, baby was
laid away, still awake and crooning softly to
herself in the dark until she fell asleep.
A quiet, happy evening now ensued, Mr. Wil-
son reading aloud while his wife sewed. The
reading gradually changed into a quiet talk.
“What a rest a man’s home and family are to
him after all the worries of the day !” remarked
Mr. Wilson, as his wife folded her sewing.
122
[139 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“And what a tower of strength and encourage-
| **
ment a man is to his family (" responded Mrs.
Wilson, as she laid her arm around his shoulders
and looked smilingly into his eyes.
It was now nearly ten o’clock. Baby must have
her last meal, and was scarcely wakened by the
process.
“Now, not another word from you till six
o'clock to-morrow morning,” said the mother,
as she laid the sleeping child back into her cradle-
nest and gave her a fond kiss.
Mr. Wilson was standing looking at the little
boy as he lay in a restful slumber, and Mrs. Wil-
son went and stood by his side.
“What a comfort children are l’” she said,
pushing the tumbled curls from the boy’s
forehead.
“Some children,” said her husband, smiling.
“Well, all children should be a comfort,”
assented Mrs. Wilson.
“And doubtless would be if all had as wise
mothers as mine have.”
“I think the fathers have something to do with
it,” replied Mrs. Wilson.
[140 |
XIH
REGARDING THE DOCTOR'S ORDERS
(FIVE YEARS)
XII
REGARDING THE DOCTOR'S ORDERS
(FIVE YEARS)
Mo. 1
66 H, mamma, give me an apple. Do, do
They are so lovely.”
Without a glance at the bright little pleading
face, Mrs. Grey abruptly answered the request.
“You know very well that you can’t have one.
The doctor said fruit was the worst thing in the
world for you, so what’s the use of teasing?”
“But, mamma, these apples are so ripe they
won’t hurt me, I am sure.”
“Oh, yes, you know a lot about it, don’t you ?
Well, you heard what I said; you can’t have one,
so that ends it.”
Little Hubert set up a pitiful wail. “It’s just
too mean of that old doctor, and I’m just going
to have one anyway.”
“Don’t you touch one of those apples,” spoke
[143 |
Making the Best of Our Children
up the mother, in a most peremplory Inanner;
“if you do, I’ll whip you.”
Harry’s reply to this threat was to throw
himself down and beat his head on the floor, a
proceeding he had usually found most effective.
At the first bump of the little head on the hard
floor Mrs. Grey changed her tactics. She was
afraid the child would hurt himself; so she said,
coaxingly: “Come, now, Harry, you want to be
mamma’s little man, I know. Don’t do that.
Be a brave boy and forget all about the apple.”
“I can’t forget,” wailed the child. “I want an
apple.” And the bumping was resumed harder
than before. He evidently saw that it was
beginning to take effect upon his mother. Again
a change of tactics on her part.
“Come, my darling, mother's pet. Come,
now, jump up and we will go and see the kittens.
Come, now, that 's a darling.”
“I don’t want to see the kittens. I want an
apple.” And this time the bump was accom-
panied by a cry so prolonged that the child grew
black in the face, and the frightened mother
hastened to yield, though with still a little show
of superiority.
[ 144 |
Regarding the Doctor’s Orders
“Well, now, see here. Just once, — just this
once,— I will give you a piece of an apple. Only
a small piece, and, mind you, it will be useless to
tease for any more. I’m not going to have you
sick on my hands again.” -
“I don’t want a piece, I want a whole apple,”
and preparations were made for a resumption
of the screams and pounding. The child saw
that he was near to victory.
“Well, here, take an apple,” said the mother,
impatiently. “Take two of them, take all there
are. I don’t care if they do make you sick, you
need not expect me to take care of you. I shall
be glad to see you suffer.”
Hubert rose from the floor, and, with an apple
in each hand, went out of the room eating, appar-
ently undisturbed by the prospect of retribution
in the form of pain and loss of mother-care. If
he thought of it at all, he felt sure that mother
would not neglect him if he were ill, no matter
how she might threaten.
“I declare,” said Mrs. Grey, as the boy dis-
appeared, “I don’t know what I shall do with
that child. He 's too smart for me.”
10 [1451
Making the Best of Our Children
JNo. 2
“MoTHER dear, may n’t I have a peach P They
are so lovely.”
With an intense appreciation of the child’s
longing for the beautiful fruit and a heartfelt
wish that she might consistently gratify it,
Mrs. Hale looked sympathetically down into the
upturned face of the little pleader. Before re-
plying, she sat down and took the little girl upon
her knee with a gentle caressing touch upon her
soft hair.
“You remember, dear,” she said at length,
“that you have been very sick, and the doctor
says that at present you should eat no fruit.”
“But, mother, he surely did not mean such
lovely peaches. They won’t hurt me, I know.”
Mrs. Hale smiled at the eagerness of the
inexperienced child, but she did not criticise it.
She only said:
“It seems to me, dear, that the doctor knows
better than we do, and that we ought to obey him.
You know nothing would give mother more
pleasure than to give you what you want —”
[146]
Regarding the Doctor’s Orders
A little impatient cry broke in upon her words,
and made her realize that they were of little
comfort to the child who could only feel her own
desires. How could she change those desires to
harmonize with the doctor’s orders ? After a
slight pause she began:
“You often tell me, dear, what you are going
to do with your little girl. Now, suppose you had
a little girl, and she had been very, very sick,
and you had watched over her many weary days
and nights, and thought sometimes she would
never get well, and suppose you had called in a
doctor to tell you how better to take care of her,
and you had had to pay the doctor a great deal
of money for his advice, and suppose that when
your little girl began to get well, the doctor had
said she should eat no fruit for a time, what would
you think you ought to do, - obey the doctor
or obey your little girl P”
Jessie nestled her head closer to her mother,
as she replied, “I know what I ought to say,
but I don’t want to say it, for I want the peaches,
and I know just how bad my little girl would
want them too.”
“Yes; so now you know just how I feel. I
[ 147 |
Making the Best of Our Children
want to mind the doctor so as to be sure that you
will not get sick again.”
“But all the rest of the folks will have them,
mother, and —” She hid her face on her
mother’s shoulder, and Mrs. Hale felt the little
form shake with her suppressed crying. The
mother's eyes filled, and yet, while her heart
pleaded, her judgment remained undisturbed.
As she held the child more closely to her, an
inspiration came.
“Dearie,” she said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.
I won’t eat any peaches until the doctor says
you may have some. You and I will go without
together.”
“No, mother,” said the child, “I don’t want
you to do without 'cause I have to. I’ll be
good —” But again she hid her face.
Another inspiration. “Let’s play that I'm your
little girl,” said the mother, “and that I have
been very sick, and the doctor says I can have no
39
fruit, and so you say you won’t eat any till the
doctor says I may. Won't that be a fine play?”
Jessie lifted her smiling face. She was the
one who could be generous in this game. Yes,
it would be fine.
[ 148 |
Regarding the Doctor's Orders
“All right,” she responded enthusiastically,
“we’ll play that you're my little girl, your name
is Nellie. Now, Nellie dear,” she said, assum-
ing the maternal manner, “the doctor says you
can’t have any fruit; so I am going to put these
peaches out of sight, and you and I won’t eat
any fruit until the doctor says you may.”
With a very dignified air she placed the peaches
in the sideboard, shut the door, and said, “Now,
Nellie dear, we are going to be very good and
mind the doctor, are n’t we ?”
“Yes, mother, we are,” heartily responded
the “play” little daughter, and during the weeks
that followed before the doctor’s prohibition
was removed, Jessie held her make-believe child
strictly to the prescribed regimen.
[149 |
XIII
STRIFE OR HARMONY
(FIVE YEARS)
XIII
STRIFE OR HARMONY
(FIVE YEARS)
JNo. 1
Mr. HARRIS came home from business very
weary. It had been a hard day, and he
longed for his home as a place of quiet and rest.
It was with a great sigh of relief that he settled
himself in his easy-chair and opened his evening
paper. What a heaven a home is after a day of
toil In the farther corner of the sitting-room his
five-year-old boy, Elmer, was running a train of
cars. He was just in the full tide of traffic, but he
had no intention of interfering with his father's
comfort. Every one knows that a train of cars
cannot be run in absolute silence. Whistles must
be blown, bells must be rung, shovel engineers
and poker firemen are noisyfellows in coal-scuttle
engines. Then stations must be called, freight
unloaded and loaded, orders must be given to
[ 153 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
the engineer through the whistles, “One to
stop, two to start, three to back up, and four
to switch off.” -
Mr. Harris was a kind father, but on this tired
evening he did not altogether sympathize with
Elmer's business.
“Make less noise there, young man,” he
shouted when a collision occurred, an engine
overturned, and the fireman and the engineer
mortally wounded. Elmer wanted to obey,
but what is a man to do when business is so
urgent? What does papa himself do? He
ought to know that business must be attended
to; and, after a few moments of comparative
silence, traffic resumed its sway and the clamor
increased.
“Young man, I tell you to make less noise,”
shouted the father, “and if you don’t you will go
to bed immediately. I cannot hear myself think.”
Elmer did not really see any need of papa's
hearing himself think and he did not exactly
understand what making less noise meant, but
he was not quite ready to go to bed and he
understood that threat; so for a time the train
ran more quietly. Soon again the demands of
[154 |
Strije or Harmony
traffic caused a good deal of bell-ringing and
whistle-blowing, and then, right in the midst of
it, Elmer felt himself lifted from the floor and
carried off toward the regions of bed. Of course,
he kicked and screamed. What man would not
under the circumstances P. But the only result
was a box on the ear and the harsh command to
keep quiet. -
Mrs. Harris appeared at the head of the stairs,
and to her the screaming boy was handed with
the words:
“Here, take this youngster. It’s a pity if a
man cannot have a little rest in his own house.”
And back to his easy-chair he went, through
the hall still resounding with the cries of rebellion
against injustice. There was silence in the
sitting-room; the overturned engine lay quietly
on its side, the injured fireman and engineer were
as still as if mortally wounded; but there was an
echo of angry words, of rebellious cries in the
air, that should have made it impossible for the
father to read in quiet, and might well have caused
him to hear Self-condemning words.
[ 155 |
Making the Best of Our Children
No. 2
MR. BARTLETT came home from business very
weary. It had been a hard day, and he longed for
his home as a place of quiet and rest. It was with
a great sigh of relief that he settled himself in his
easy-chair and opened his evening paper. What
a heaven a home is after a day of toil!
In the farther corner of the sitting-room his
five-year-old boy, Alfred, was running a train of
CàI’S.
“Hello, Mr. Conductor,” he said cheerfully,
“how is business to-day ?”
Alfred was almost too busy to reply, but he
answered readily, “Pretty good, sir,” for he and
papa were great chums.
Mr. Bartlett opened his paper and tried to
read, but the clanging bells and resounding
whistles were too much for his tired brain, and he
began to feel that in some way he must secure a
little more quiet. He hesitated to interrupt the
happy play, but he realized that consideration for
others was an important lesson for the child to
learn; so, laying down his paper, he called in
a cheery tone:
[156]
Strije or Harmony
“Hello, Mr. Conductor, can you step this way
a minute, please ?”
This was in the line of business; so Alfred
complied at once and, with an expectant look,
came and stood by his father's chair. -
“Where does your train run ?” asked Mr.
Bartlett.
“From New York to Mexico,” replied the
boy, promptly.
“Well, that is a fine trip,” said the father.
“I suppose you have sleeping-cars P”
Alfred had not thought of this, but the sug-
gestion seemed to open a new line of business,
and he quickly replied:
“Oh, yes, sir, nice ones.”
“I thought I would like a ticket,” said Mr.
Bartlett, “and a berth in the sleeper. I suppose
you take good care of your passengers. You do
not call out stations in the sleeping-car or ring
the bells, for that would wake up the passengers.
You just let me know when we get to Mexico
and see that we have a quiet ride until we arrive
there.”
Alfred’s mind was busy with the new idea. He
tiptoed back to his train, told the shovel engineer
| 157 |
Making the Best of Our Children
and the poker fireman that they must not be so
noisy or they would wake up the passengers in
the sleeping-car, and for the next half-hour a very
quiet train of cars sped on its way to Mexico.
Then the urgency of freight traffic began to assert
itself and the din resumed. Realizing it was
near the boy’s bedtime, Mr. Bartlett laid down
his paper, yawned, and said:
“I did not know that we were so near Mexico,
but it is about time to get ready to leave the train.
Say, Mr. Conductor, do you make connections
with that train that starts for Sleepy Hollow in
about ten minutes ?”
Alfred understood that this was papa’s way of
telling him that it was about time to go to bed.
He was not quite ready to go to bed and began to
say that he was afraid they did not connect with
that train.
Mr. Bartlett interposed with a statement that
there was a special engine going to climb the hill,
and that if he was ready he could have a ride.
Alfred understood this also, and in a few minutes
the train had resolved itself into an orderly row
of chairs, the coal scuttle had resumed its
ordinary occupation, the engineer and fireman
[ 158
Strije or Harmony
were reposing on the hearth, and Alfred in great
glee was being carried upstairs on his father’s
back. Mrs. Bartlett met them at the head of the
stairs.
“Here, mamma, is a tired young conductor
who has brought us safely through from New
York to Mexico and he wants to take a special
train to Sleepy Hollow. Good-night, my little
man.” And with a kiss the child was resigned
to his mother’s arms, and the father went back to
his easy-chair and his newspaper, to a room that
was filled with echoes of joyous laughter and the
memory of a merry child who was going to sleep
with a happy heart.
[ 159 |
XIV
RUNNING AWAY AND ITS CURE
(FIVE YEARS)
XIV
RUNNING AWAY AND ITS CURE
(FIVE YEARS)
JNo. 1 -
6& ELL, I suppose that child has run
away again,” said Mrs. Phillips, as she
hastened to the front gate. Aunt Mary went
after her, and the two women stood and looked
up and down the street anxiously. Electric cars
were whizzing by almost every minute. There
were heavy trucks, automobiles, bicycles, and
a crowd of pedestrians in the street, and the day
was drawing to a close. The city was full of
dangers, even for an adult; how much more for
the feet of a little child
“I don’t know where to go, but I must start on
the hunt.” And Mrs. Phillips was off down
the street, looking here and there anxiously for
her little girl.
After some minutes Aunt Mary saw her com-
[ 163 ]
© ſº º
& * >
* > * e
Making the Best of our Children
ing back, leading — no, dragging — the child
by the hand, and she was scolding. Aunt Mary
could see that long before she could hear the
sound of her voice. When she came within hear-
ing, she was saying: “You are the most trouble-
some little nuisance I ever knew. I don’t know
what I am going to do with you. I think I will
have to send you to the reform school.”
Little Jennie’s face was soiled and tearful, and
she looked up anxiously at these words. She did
not much mind the whippings she received, she
was quite callous to the scoldings, but reform
school was a new evil of which she had a great
dread. --
“What would you do with such a child, Aunt
Mary 2 I have scolded and whipped and sent
her to bed without her supper, and nothing does
any good.”
“Have you ever tried tying her up P” asked
Aunt Mary.
“Oh, no,” exclaimed Mrs. Phillips. “I should
be afraid to do that. Why, she would have con-
vulsions. I tried it once, and I thought the po-
lice would come in to see if she was not being
murdered.”
[ 164 |
Running Away and Its Cure
Jennie looked up with a sly little grin at these
words. There was one punishment which she
felt her mother would not inflict.
“No,” said Mrs. Phillips, “I think I will have
to send her to the reform school. Now, come
along and get your face and hands washed, and
I’ll put you to bed without your supper.”
And soon there issued from the bathroom the
Sounds of scolding and slapping, and the cries
of an injured child whose spirit rebelled against
the mother’s admönitions.
“I declare,” said Mrs. Phillips, returning to
Aunt Mary and sinking in a chair, “I really do
not know what to do. I have put the child to
bed without her supper, and yet I feel she ought
to have something to eat. It does n’t do any good
to whip her, she forgets it in five minutes. I am
at my wits' end. It really seems to me I shall
have to send her to the reform school.”
“You don’t mean that l” exclaimed Aunt Mary.
“Indeed, I do,” said Mrs. Phillips. “She has
got beyond me.”
“That is a sorrowful admission for the mother
of a five-year-old girl to make,” said Aunt Mary,
gravely. -
[ 165 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“Well, what would you do?” asked Mrs.
Phillips. “I wish you would try your hand ather.”
“I would be glad to if I had her by myself,”
said Aunt Mary, “but I certainly would not
attempt it with you at hand.”
“Well, I would be perfectly willing to go away
and leave her in your charge. Suppose I go
and visit mother for a week, and leave you to
manage her. Are you willing to try P”
“Will you let me do just as I think best?”
asked Aunt Mary. *.
“Yes, indeed. I feel perfectly safe to leave
her with you.”
“Very well,” replied Aunt Mary. “I will un-
dertake it.”
No. 2
“Now, Jennie, good-bye, and be a good girl.
Don’t run away while mamma is gone. You
won’t, will you?”
“No,” assented Jennie, very cheerfully.
“That is right. Mamma will bring you some
candy if you are a good girl.”
So the good-byes were said, and Aunt Mary
and Jennie were left to themselves.
[ 166 |
Running Away and Its Cure
“Now,” said Aunt Mary, “we are going to
have a very happy time. You will help me, and I
shall help you. Shall we go and make the beds?”
And so through the morning hours the two
worked together. Jennie wielded her little broom
and dust-cloth, and helped to wipe the dishes,
finding Aunt Mary a very friendly companion.
All went well until after dinner, when Aunt
Mary went to take her usual nap. She thought
it not best by prohibition to suggest the possi-
bility of Jennie's running away, deeming it
wiser to let things take their own course and
to treat the child as if she was expected to be
good. Jennie was playing happily in the yard
when Aunt Mary went to her room, but when,
in the course of an hour, she came out again, the
child was nowhere to be seen. Wondering where
she would better go to look for her, Aunt Mary
stopped at the gate, when a little servant-girl
across the street called out:
“She has gone to Willie Smith's, just around
the corner.” And here Aunt Mary found the
child, playing very contentedly with a number of
children. **
She looked up a little frightened when she
[167]
Making the Best of Our Children
saw Aunt Mary coming, and waited for no
comment, but ran with outstretched hands,
saying:
“Oh, auntie, Willie Smith has got the nicest
hobby-horse you ever saw.” --
“Has he?” asked Aunt Mary, kindly. “Well,
I think we will not stop to admire it now.” And,
without a word, she led the child home. When
there, she sat down, and, taking little Jennie on
her knee, said gravely:
“You know, dear, you promised mamma not
to run away, and you have broken your promise.
Now, I want you to listen to what I am going to
say to you. If you run away again, I will surely
punish you.”
Jennie made no reply. -
“Do you know what punishment means?”
asked Auntie.
“Oh, whippings, I suppose,” said Jennie.
“Are you going to whip me P” -
“I have not decided just how I will punish
you, but it will be something you will not like,
and so it will be well for you to remember.
Remember also that Aunt Mary always keeps
her promises.”
[168 ||
Running Away and Its Cure
That the child did not take this very seriously
to heart was proven the next afternoon; for again,
when Aunt Mary came from her nap, Jennie was
gone. This time there was no obliging servant-
girl to tell her where to look for the missing child.
She was not at Willie Smith's, she was not at
the corner grocery-store, though she had been
seen to pass there an hour before. She was not
at the drugstore on the corner below, though she
had stopped to admire the gold fish in the win-
dow and the druggist had given her a stick of
licorice. So the clews were followed, until at
last, several blocks from home, Jennie was found
with a crowd of children, listening to a hand-
organ. She glanced up with a startled look as
Aunt Mary took her hand. She saw the serious
face, but there was no scolding. Auntie quietly
waited until the tune was ended, and then as
quietly started with Jennie towards home. This
was a new method of procedure; and Jennie
tried by several insinuating means to discover
Auntie's frame of mind, but to no purpose.
Aunt Mary’s face was inscrutably calm, and so,
silently, they walked together until they reached
home. Then silently Jennie was taken to the
[ 169 |
Making the Best of Our Children
bathroom, her face and hands washed, and a
clean apron put on and her hair brushed. Then
Aunt Mary took her on her knee and began to
speak.
“You know, dear,” she said, “I promised to
punish you if you ran away, and I am going to
keep my promise.” So saying, she placed Jennie
in a large wooden rocking-chair, and, with a small
strap, buckled her in. Jennie looked up at first
with a startled expression and then with a re-
bellious one. Quick as a flash she turned, under
the strap, and began to unfasten the buckle; but
Aunt Mary’s hand quickly interposed, and Aunt
Mary herself sat down quietly beside the child,
holding her hand over the buckle so that Jennie
could not reach it. At this, Jennie began to
scream and to pound her head against the back
of the chair. The noise was truly terrific, and
Auntie did not wonder that Mrs. Phillips feared
the appearance of the police; but she had be-
gun the experiment, and did not intend to be
frightened out of it.
She was conscious that, under all these con-
vulsions and efforts, Jennie was keeping a watch-
ful eye on her to note the impression she was
[170 |
Running Away and Its Cure
making. Finding that the screams had appar-
ently no effect, Jennie began to scold and
threaten. “I don’t love you,” she cried. “I
will call the police. I will wipe the floor with
you,” she continued, in phraseology which she had
learned probably from some street acquaintance.
“I am sorry you don’t love me,” said Aunt
Mary, quietly, “for I love you.”
Jennie looked up with a surprised expression,
but she evidently did not believe Aunt Mary's
Statement.
“I’ll tell my mother on you,” she said.
“Yes,” said Aunt Mary, “I hope you will. I
want her to know.”
Again a flash of surprise and a change of
tactics.
“I won’t eat supper with you.”
“No,” said Aunt Mary, “it looks now as though
neither of us would have any supper; for we can
have none so long as you act in this way. I can
stay here just as long as you can, and while you
kick and scream, we will stay. Just as soon as
you are ready to be a good little girl and do what
is right, you may be unfastened.”
Evidently Jennie did not believe that this
[ 171 ||
Making the Best of Our Children
was the quickest way to obtain freedom, for she
began to start up her screams and renew her
kicking. It took all of Aunt Mary’s resolution to
stay quiet and see the child working herself into
a fever. She began to wonder how long this
could last, whether she would really be obliged
to yield before the child gave up. In her dilemma
she leaned on her elbow on the arm of the chair
and covered her eyes with her hand, and her
heart went out in a swift prayer for wisdom to
guide her in this crisis. For several moments she
remained silent, while the child’s convulsive
efforts and screams showed no sign of abate-
ment. Then, without premeditation, Aunt Mary
spoke. Even as she uttered the words, she won-
dered why she had said them. They were not
formulated in her mind; for, if she had thought
of them beforehand, she would probably have
dismissed them as unreasonable. Impulsively
she asked Jennie, “Do you ever pray P” In-
stantly the child became still, her eyes fixed upon
Aunt Mary’s face. Then the little arms went out
and enclosed Aunt Mary’s neck, and the child’s
voice whispered:
“I am sorry that I’bused you, Auntie.”
[172 |
Running Away and Its Cure
The buckle was unclasped, the strap removed,
and the child and woman wept together in a
loving embrace. The victory was complete.
After this there was no rebellion on Jennie’s
part. Never again during her mother's absence
did she run away. It was with a happy face she
ran to greet her mother on her return; and al-
most before the words of greeting were spoken,
she exclaimed:
“I did run away, mamma; and Aunt Mary tied
me up, and I hollered and kicked and hollered
as loud as I could, but she never scared a bit. I
guess I won’t run away any more.”
[ 173 ]
XV
STUDYING THE CHILD
(SIX YEARS)
XV
STUDYING THE CHILD
(SIX YEARS)
JNo. 7
ABRIELLE CONWAY called herself an en-
thusiast; her friends called her a “faddist.”
Her latest fad was child-study, and in its prose-
cution she laid all her friends who had children
under contribution. She called, note-book in
hand, and entered therein the names, ages, per-
sonal peculiarities, defects, tempers, and “smart-
nesses” of all the little ones, who soon came to
know her, and either ran away to escape a
record of their faults or hastened to be present
at the call, expecting their beauty and accom-
plishments to receive recognition.
“Come on,” said one pert child. “Let’s go
in and say something funny, and Miss Conway
will print it in a book.”
Parents who feared the development of self-
I2 [ 177 )
Making the Best of Our Children
consciousness in their children dreaded the visits
of Miss Conway.
It occurred to her one afternoon that she had
not called lately on Mrs. Wingate, who had a .
little son about five years old, who, no doubt,
would furnish many interesting items for the
note-book.
Little Gordon opportunely made his appear-
ance very soon after her entrance into Mrs. Win-
gate’s parlor. The note-book at once made its
appearance also, and, in answer to her inquiries,
an entry was made of his age, name, color of
hair and eyes, and the fact that he walked a little
“pigeon-toed.” After these items were noted, she
put out her hand to greet him, and he shyly held
out his in return.
“Oh,” exclaimed the mother, “will you never
learn which is your right hand P Give the other
hand. He always persists in giving his left hand
to strangers,” she explained, “although I have
corrected him numberless times.”
“Always gives his left hand to strangers,”
noted Miss Conway. “Puts his left forefinger to
the right corner of his mouth when spoken to.”
During this writing the child had taken the op-
[ 178 )
Studying the Child
portunity to whisper to his mother, “May nºt I
go to Mamie Dunbar's P” -
“Oh, I’m afraid you 'll get your clean clothes
soiled.” -
“No, I won’t. Please let me go. Do, mamma,
please do. I’ll be real careful.”
“Putshis hand on his mother’s cheekand moves
from one foot to the other when he teases,” noted
Miss Conway.
“All right,” said the mother; “but remember,
if you tear or soil your clothes I shall have to pun-
ish you.”
“I’ll 'member,” gleefully responded Gordon.
As he ran from the room, Miss Conway noted,
“Runs more pigeon-toed than he walks.”
“Oh, I am sorry that you let him go,” she ex-
claimed. “He makes such a fascinating study.
I have already got some notes from him that I
never obtained from any other child.”
“How did you come to take up this subject of
child-study, having no children of your own Fº
asked Mrs. Wingate.
“Just for that very reason,” replied Miss Con-
way. “The mother stands too near her children
to make a scientific study of them. Now, I'll
[179 |
Making the Best of Our Children
warrant you did not observe just what your little
boy did when he was preferring his request. You
were too busy thinking whether you should grant
it or not to observe him closely. But I, as a dis-
interested spectator, noticed and noted very many
interesting facts.”
“But what good will that do? Of what use
will they be to you or to the child?”
“None to me as an individual, and none, per-
haps, to this child, but myriads of isolated facts,
collected by close observers and put into the
hands of scientists and co-ordinated with other
material in the field of psycho-physiology, anthro-
pology, and pathology, will be classified, and from
the classification certain facts will be made prom-
inent and certain principles deduced which will
be indices for the training of children in the
future. The education of the past has been
largely based upon theory, but the spirit of to-day
is to submit all the conclusions of the past to the
test of fact, to see if they fulfil the conditions of
truth. Speculation is at a discount. The pen-
dulum of philosophical thought now swings
toward observation and experiment, and it seems
only right that the pendulum should be given full
[ 180 |
Studying the Child
swing, since the arsis in any rhythmic movement
determines the length of the thesis, you know.”
“No,” said Mrs. Wingate, laughing, “I con-
fess that I don’t know. I suppose it means some-
thing, and that child-study has some value, but I
certainly have no time to watch Gordon to see if
he smiles more at one corner of his mouth than
the other, or in what direction the lines of his
forehead run when he frowns. It seems to me I
can understand, love, and train him without all
that. Truly, it seems nonsense to me.”
“Well, my dear Mrs. Wingate, that parents
love their children does not prove that they can
train them wisely. Yet it is not strange that the
parent, engrossed with his personal problem,
should fail to see the larger good that will come to
future generations through close observation of
the child of to-day.”
“It may be true,” said Mrs. Wingate, “but
I fear I’ll have to keep on in my own way of
meeting the emergencies as they arise in my own
case, leaving other mothers to do the same.”
“Of course,” replied Miss Conway, “the bulk
of these investigations will have to be done by
experts in rational psychology and experimental
[ 181 |
Making the Best of Our Children
pedagogy who have the philosophic outlook,
rather than by the parents, who see only their
own limited circle. But one day you mothers will
be grateful to us, who have the wider vision of the
seer.”
So laughingly the ladies parted, each to pursue
her own path.
JVo. 2
MRs. WINGATE's younger sister, Mrs. Colgrove,
had come from a not far distant town to spend
several days. Soon after her arrival, while the
ladies were deeply interested in their conversa-
tion, little Gordon entered the room not expect-
ing to see any one but his mother. At first he
thought the lady talking with her was a stranger
and manifested some shyness, but his mother
called: “Come here, Gordon. You know Aunt
Margaret. Shake hands with her.”
Gordon was better acquainted with Aunt Mar-
garet by name than by actual association, and so
came forward very readily and held out his hand
in response to hers.
“Oh,” exclaimed Mrs. Wingate, with irrita-
[ 182 )
Studying the Child
tion. “That same left hand again! Really, I am
getting quite discouraged with Gordon,” she ex-
plained to her sister. “He never will learn to
give his right hand, although I tell him every
time.”
“Which is your right hand, Gordon P” asked
Mrs. Colgrove, pleasantly.
“I don’t know,” replied the child, with an
abashed manner.
Mrs. Colgrove opened her hand-bag and took
out paper and pencil.
“See here,” she said, “I am going to draw
something for you.”
With an interested look Gordon at once stepped
to her side.
“I make a little mark here,” she continued,
“and this is Gordon. Now just in front of it I
make another little mark, and this is Aunt Mar-
garet. Now, if Aunt Margaret puts out her hand
on this side and Gordon puts out his hand on the
same side, it makes such a figure as this. Just
like three sides of the room, is nºt it? Now I will
make another mark for Gordon and another one
for Aunt Margaret. Now, if Aunt Margaret puts
out her hand on this side and Gordon puts his out
[ 183]
Making the Best of Our Children
on the other side, they will meet right here and
make — what is it, Gordon P”
The child’s eyes brightened, and he replied
quickly, “Z.”
“No,” said Aunt Margaret, “It is not quite the
letter ‘Z.” It would be if we used our left hands,
but now it is a “Z” turned around like this. What
does it look like P”
“Like an ‘N’ lying down,” said the boy.
“Or an “S” with sharp corners,” added Aunt
Margaret.
They shook hands again, and Gordon noted
the relative position of the bodies and clasped
hands with great interest.
“Now,” said Aunt Margaret, “you run out of
the room and come back and make me a visit and
shake hands with me.”
Gordon did so, but this time offered his left
hand.
“Oh, you little stupid, that is not the right
hand 1’ exclaimed his mother, with annoyance,
but Mrs. Colgrove gave her a warning look.
Gordon’s face flushed, and he said in a dis-
couraged tone: “Is this always the wrong hand,
auntie P”
[184]
Studying the Child
“No,” replied Mrs. Colgrove. “Let me tell
you about these two little hands. You have a
sister; what is her name P”
“Clara,” replied the boy.
“Clara Wingate, is it not? And your name is
Gordon Wingate. Now you are stronger than
Clara, and there are some things which you can
do that she is not permitted to do. But your
names remain the same. Now the two little
hands have names; one is Right Hand and the
other Left Hand, and we permit Right Hand to
do many things which Left Hand is not allowed
to do. Can you think of some P”
Gordon shook his head.
“Does your mamma allow you to use your
knife at the table in either hand P”
“Well, no,” said Gordon, “I use my knife in
one hand and my fork in the other.”
“Yes, you use your knife in the right hand
and your fork in the left. Now we have acquired
the custom of always shaking hands with the right
hand. Let me see if I can’t help you to remember
which your right hand is.” And taking a little
bow of ribbon from her dress, she pinned it on
his right sleeve. “That is your right hand,”
[185 |
Making the Best of Our Children
she said, “and now I will make the letter ‘S’ on
your forehead, and you will always remember
that we make a sharp-pointed ‘S’ in shaking
hands with our right hands.”
Gordon was sure he would always remember,
and then he preferred a request. “Mamma, may
I go and show the ribbon to Mamie Dunbar and
tell her which is my right hand?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Wingate, abruptly; “you
remember how you soiled your clothes the last
time you went there.” ---
“Why, mamma, I have n’t been there for a
long time. Can't I go I will be careful.”
Mrs. Wingate foresaw persistent teasing, and
so retreated from her position and temporized
by saying, “Well, you know I shall punish you
if you soil your clothes. You can go for half an
hour.” -
It was not more than ten minutes before
Gordon came back crying, with torn clothes,
which gave him no concern, and a wounded
finger over which he lamented loudly. Mrs.
Wingate paid no attention to the finger, but began
immediately to scold because of the soiled and
torn clothes. She would listen to no explanation,
[ 186]
Studying the Child
but, seizing the boy, carried him off by main
force. In a few moments she returned, and,
seating herself with a sigh, said: “That child
will be the death of me yet! He is such a little
irrepressible conflict.”
“What have you done with him P” asked her
sister.
“I have shut him up in a dark closet. He is
awfully afraid of the dark, and it is the worst
punishment I could devise.”
“If he is afraid of the dark, do you think it
wise to shut him in a dark room P”
“Well, maybe he will learn to mind if he does
not like being shut up.”
“But really, Clara, it is a dangerous proceeding
to shut up a nervous child in a place where he is
afraid. Let us go and listen, and see if he is
crying.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Mrs. Wingate; “of
course he is crying, but he will get over it.”
But Mrs. Colgrove was not to be deterred, and
soon found where the child was by the sound of
his outcries. -
“Clara,” she said, “that child is frightened
almost to death. You must let him out.”
[ 187]
Making the Best of Our Children
“Indeed I won’t,” replied Mrs. Wingate. “I
thought you believed in making children mind.”
“So I do, but not by frightening them. Don’t
you know that the strain upon his nervous system
may be very serious P You can devise some other
method of punishment, but, I beseech you, do
open the closet door.”
The child’s cries were really heartrending, and,
yielding to her sister's entreaties, Mrs. Wingate
opened the closet door; and the child rushed out
with a scream, looking back as if he expected
something to follow him. -
“Oh, mamma,” he exclaimed, “something
kept hitting me on the head. What was it?”
“Oh, it was n’t anything, you foolish child,”
replied his mother.
“Gordon,” said Mrs. Colgrove, “does your
finger hurt you?”
The child’s thoughts, thus turned away from
the subject of fear, became engrossed with the
little physical pain he was feeling.
“Come here,” continued his aunt; “let’s wash
the little finger clean and tie it up, and I will tell
you a story.” o
During the process of dressing the slight
[ 188 |
Studying the Child
wound, Mrs. Colgrove interested the child by a
pleasant recital of the things she had seen on
her journey to the city, and then asked him in a
casual way how he had hurt his finger. He had
begun to feel that his Aunt Margaret was full of
sympathy, and so without hesitation began his
little tale.
“Why, you see, it was this way: Mamie had a
little white kitty, and a dog got after it and chased
it into the next yard, and Mamie was awful 'fraid
and I was 'fraid that the dog would get the kitty,
and there was n’t time to run along through the
gate, and so I just squeezed under the fence and
drove the dog away and caught the kitty, and I
tore my clothes and hurted my finger. I could
not let the kitty get killed, could I?”
Mrs. Wingate had listened to the story with
feelings that ranged from irritation to admiration.
“Why,” she said, “the child was a little hero.”
Gordon did not understand her remark, but
recognized that it was not uncomplimentary, and
Smiled at his mamma.
“I am sorry I tore my clothes, mamma. I
didn’t mean to.”
Mrs. Wingate was down on her knees beside
[ 189 |
Making the Best of Our Children
the child, and, putting her arms around him, said,
“Mamma is very proud of her little boy, that he
was so brave.”
Mrs. Colgrove, who did not like this method
of treating the child, hastened to change the
subject. -
“And now I wonder if he is brave enough to go
with Aunt Margaret into the closet and close the
door P” -
“Well, but, auntie, there is something in there
that hit me on the head.”
“Well, shall we go and see what it is 2 The
dark did not hit you on the head. The dark is
nothing.”
Emboldened by his aunt’s presence, Gordon
went into the closet and the door was shut.
“There it is 1” he cried, affrightedly. “It hits
me now. Don’t you feel it?”
Mrs. Colgrove put up her hand to the child’s
head, and then she laughed. “Put up your hand,
Gordon, right here by mine, and you will find out
what hits you on the head.”
Timidly, yet anxious to prove his bravery, the
little fellow put up his hand, and then he, too,
laughed.
[1903
Studying the Child
“Why?" he said, “it’s mamma's shawl. She
always hangs it on the closet door.”
“Surely,” said Aunt Margaret, “there is always
a reason for everything, and there is nothing in
the closet when the door is shut that is not there
when the door is open.”
“But it is light when the door is open,” per-
sisted Gordon.
“Where does the light go when you shut the
door? Can you catch it when it comes out of the
closet P”
Gordon laughed. “Let’s try,” he said. So
for several moments he played most merrily,
trying to catch the light as it came out of the
closet and the dark as it went in, until he grew so
familiar with the dark that he was not at all
afraid to go in the closet and stay several minutes
alone.
“See, I am not afraid,” he said proudly.
“Dark does n’t hurt any one.”
When the two sisters were sitting together after
the little boy was asleep, Mrs. Wingate said, “I
wish I knew how to manage Gordon as you do.”
“You must study him,” replied her sister.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Wingate, “I’m disgusted
[191 ||
M aking the Best of Our Children
with child-study. I’ve no time to watch all his
little ‘tricks and manners,’ as Gabrielle Conway
does. She’s awfully interested in child-study,
but I can’t see that it amounts to anything.”
Mrs. Colgrove smiled. “Miss Conway’s idea
of child-study is not mine, yet I believe there is a
kind of study of our children that is very valuable.
It takes time and thought and much patience,
but I think it pays.”
“I’m sure of it,” exclaimed Mrs. Wingate,
“and I mean to learn how to study my child. I
thank you for the lesson you have given me
to-day.”
[192 |
XVI
GOOD AND BAD TABLE MANNERS
(SIX YEARS)
XVI
GOOD AND BAD TABLE MANNERs
(SIX YEARS)
JNo. 1
F you merely looked at the children, you would
have said they were lovely, with their rosy
cheeks, their bright eyes, and curly hair. But if
you came to eat with them — well, that was an-
other story. They all chewed noisily and with
mouth open. They smacked their lips, they used
their fingers insteads of forks, and, when fingers
were soiled, they licked them clean. They
reached for what they wanted or demanded it
like a dictator, with no formality of suppliance.
They rushed to the table and began to eat before
the family were assembled, and they left the
table as the individual spirit moved, without
word of apology or plea for permission.
The father and mother often wondered why
their children were so ill-mannered. They them-
[195 |
Making the Best of Our Children
selves had fairly good table manners, especially
when there were guests; they were annoyed
by the rudeness of the children, and during
meals kept them frequently reminded of their
misdeeds.
“Anna, don't eat with your knife.”
“Gregory, I am ashamed to see you reach for
what you want without asking.”
They did not know that these very prohibitions
were in themselves suggestions to do the for-
bidden thing. Anna would forget the “don’t,”
but “eat with your knife” was in itself provoca-
tive of the deed, and, without purposing to
disobey, she followed the hint given and received
another hint in a repetition of the fault-finding.
Gregory could not feel the shame indicated
by the words or looks of the parent and forgot
that part of the sentence, but “reach for what
you want without asking” remained in his sub-
conscious mind and stimulated to a repetition
of the offence. The very fault-finding of the
parents thus became a force to bind still more
closely the fetters of wrong habits.
The parents were troubled and anxious, but
it is hard to break old habits and form new ones.
[196 |
Good and Bad Table Manners
In all probability they will give up the struggle;
and the children will be left fettered through
life, or until, with a growing understanding of the
requirements of polite society, they educate them-
selves into good table manners.
JNo. 2
YoU would not have thought Bennie Walton
pretty at first sight. He had a snub nose, freckles,
and red hair, but when you came to know him
and witness his beautiful manners — well, you
changed your mind.
Bennie’s parents were wise people. They
knew the value of starting right, and they worked
in hearty accord to form good habits for Bennie
in the outset.
As a baby he was taught to wait quietly at the
table until the blessing was said, to use his spoon
neatly, to say “please” and “thank you.”
Quite early in life he came to feel that he and
papa were the “men of the family’’ and “gentle-
men always waited until the ladies were served.”
He would have felt quite aggrieved to have been
waited on first, “just as if he were a baby.”
[197]
Making the Best of Our Children
When he wanted anything, a gentle pat on
mamma’s hand gave her information of the fact
and he was at once attended to; but mamma
did not often ignore him so that he was obliged
to call her attention to his wants, and he never
found it needful to tease in order to receive his
share of consideration. In fact, he early learned
that things did not come by teasing, and that a
pleasant request and a little patience, when
courtesy demanded that he should be patient, —
otherwise it was not required of him, - brought
the granting of his wishes at once, if they were
to be granted at all.
At six years of age Bennie had grown able to
take papa’s place in his absence, to ask the
blessing, and to dish out fruit or some of the
vegetables, and to be a very polite little host,
looking after the wants of guests and perhaps
saying to mamma in an aside, “I think Mrs.
Brown would like some potatoes or bread,” as
the case might be.
His bearing was modest, but perfectly un-
embarrassed. He did not often join in the
conversation, but, when he did, he was very at-
tractive. Indeed, the dignified gravity of his
| 198 |
Good and Bad Table Manners
demeanor might have been somewhat amusing,
if it had not been so charming.
When Bennie goes out into the great social
world, he may not know all the minutiae of table
etiquette, but one thing is sure, — he will never
be guilty of rudeness, and his exquisite courtesy
will disarm all criticism of small inaccuracies in
the use of special implements for particular
purposes,
| 199]
XVII
COMPELLING OBEDIENCE AND
WINNING IT
(SIX YEARS)
XVII
COMPELLING OBEDIENCE AND
WINNING IT
(SIX YEARS)
JNo 1
D. OBBIE, shut the door.”
* * Robbie, playing with his blocks, seems
66
not to have heard the colurnalid.
“Robbie, did you hear me? I say, shut the
door.”
Still Robbie pays no heed.
“Robbie,” insists the mother, with a stamp of
her foot and a note of authority in her voice, “if
you don’t mind me and shut that door, I shall
certainly punish you. Come, now, are you going
to shut the door P”
“Don’t want to shut the door,” declares the
little five-year-old, continuing his play.
Quite in a temper, Mrs. Blake rushes at the
little fellow, seizes him by the arm, and pulls him

[203 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
to the door, repeating: “Now, shut that door, I
tell you. You won’t, won’t you? Well, take
that.” And a blow on the ear follows, succeeded
by cries from Robbie. A struggle ensues which
lasts for many minutes. Robbie, smarting under
repeated blows and deafened by a torrent of
words, at last shoves the door shut with his foot,
and is sent back to his play with an angry heart,
which is expressed in his sullen face
“You little rebel,” says the tired mother, as she
seats herself after the contest, “you think you
can govern me, do you? Well, I’ll show you.
You've got to mind me, and that's all there is
about it. You might as well stop crying, or I'll
give you something to cry for. Do you hear?”
Robbie replies only by a vicious kick at a chair,
at which his mother slyly laughs, as she says to
her sister-in-law, looking on, “It is n’t easy to
get ahead of that young one, but I mean to make
him mind at any cost.”
To do Mrs. Blake justice, she does usually
succeed in gaining apparent obedience from her
little son, after a contest which is generally long
and severe and leaves both in an unhappy frame
of mind.
[204]
Compelling Obedience and Winning It
Robbie seems no more ready to mind as the
days go on. Indeed, every struggle seems to
leave him more rebellious than the preceding
one, but the mother prides herself on never
yielding a point after she has made her demand
or given her order.
Mo. 2
MRs. BLAKE was called from home for a time,
leaving Robbie in care of her sister-in-law.
“Now, don’t let him get the upper hand of you.
Give him a good whipping if he does nºt mind,”
was Mrs. Blake's parting injunction. “Make
him mind, as I do.”
Miss Wallace smiled, saying, “Robbie and I
will get along, I am sure.” And yet at heart she
was not so certain of it as her words implied, for
she knew that Robbie had no idea of obedience,
and she also knew that she would not whip him.
The first day after the mother's departure Miss
Wallace spent in making friends with her little
nephew. She was interested in his play and
made herself a very delightful companion. When
bedtime came, she took him on her lap, told him
[205 ||
Making the Best of Our Children
a pretty story about some kittens, two of whom
were good and obedient and one was disobedient.
He was deeply interested in the mishaps of the
naughty kitten and said:
“He’d ought to have minded his mamma,
ought n’t he, auntie P”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Aunt Clara. “He
would have been much happier. Now, you and
auntie are going to be left together for two whole
weeks and I am very anxious that we shall be very
happy. Mamma thinks you ’d better mind Aunt
Clara; so, whatever I tell you to do, you ought
to do it. Don’t you think so P”
Robbie wasn’t quite sure; so auntie continued:
“Auntie is going to be as good to you as she can,
and sometimes the best thing she can do will be
to make you mind. Now, I want you to listen to
me very carefully. I shall only ask you to do the
things I am sure mamma would want you to do,
and if you do not mind me at once, Robbie, do
you hear? — at once, I shall have to punish you.”
“Going to whip?” asked Robbie, rebelliously. .
“I don’t just know what I will do, only this
is sure: if you do not mind at once, I shall
punish.”
[206 |
Compelling Obedience and Winning It
Robbie was not much frightened at this threat;
he had heard many threats that were not fulfilled.
Aunt Clara tried to avoid a contest with the
child and succeeded until the afternoon of the
second day, when she asked Robbie if he would
please shut the door. At once the little lad
answered saucily, “I won't.”
Miss Wallace went near and, stooping down
to him, said gently but firmly: “You remember
I said yesterday that, if you did not mind me
promptly, I should punish. I will give you one
more chance this time, but after this I shall speak
but once. Please shut the door, Robbie.”
“I won’t do it,” asserted the child again.
Without further words Aunt Clara gathered
the little rebel in her arms and sat down with
him on the sofa, holding him so tightly that his
efforts to free himself were all in vain. It was
well that she was strong, for he kicked and tried
to scratch and bite, while his screams were so
terrifying that Miss Wallace feared the neighbors
might be alarmed by them. Still she held the
boy firmly, but without a word. Sometimes he
would stop screaming for a moment and look up
into her face. She returned his gaze with a look
[ 207 |
Making the Best of Our Children
of gentle firmness, but in silence. Finding kick-
ing of no avail, he at last grew more quiet.
“I want to get down,” he demanded.
“You may get down as soon as you are ready
to shut the door,” replied Aunt Clara, quietly.
After a moment Robbie began to try to slip
from his aunt’s arms. She thought it best to
take it for granted that he intended to shut the
door, so allowed him to get down. He walked to
the door, shut it with a bang, and, with a sullen
face, turned towards her.
“Thank you, dear,” she said softly, and went
out of the room, leaving him to think over this
new experience by himself. She had conquered,
but it was by force though not by blows, and this
kind of a victory did not satisfy her. She had not
conquered the boy’s real self. She thought over
the situation very seriously. She had studied
psychology somewhat and had learned something
about the growth of a brain.
“It is evident,” she said to herself, “that some
irritable cells have been built into this little brain.
If I could avoid arousing them, I should be glad;
but he must learn to obey. How can I teach this
great lesson of obedience with the least friction ?”
[208 ||
Compelling Obedience and Winning It
She pondered a moment. “Why not have an
obedience drill, just as they have fire drills in
schools? I’ll do it, and I’ll get little Anna
Corning to help me.”
Little Anna, a bright girl of ten, was in no wise
averse to spending the days in play with Robbie,
and Miss Wallace explained to her what she
wanted to do.
“I am going to teach you a new play called
‘Orders.’ The game is to see which one can do
what I order the most quickly. You will show
Robbie how, and I think we can have great fun.”
A pointed paper cap with a paper plume was
made for each child, and each carried a small
flag. Miss Wallace explained such orders as
“Mark time, march,” “Forward, march,”
“Halt,” etc., and, when these were learned, the
drill began. Back and forth the children
marched, waving their flags to the right, to the
left, over their heads, leaving the flags on a chair,
bringing them to Aunt Clara, carrying them
behind them, in front of them, in all possible
positions.
Robbie was delighted and seemed never to tire
of the new game. During the two weeks that
14 [209 |
Making the Best of Our Children
followed, little by little Miss Wallace introduced
other orders, such as “Open the door,” “Shut
the door,” “Bring that book,” “Hang up your
hat,” etc., until Robbie grew so used to obeying
in the play that even at other times he automati-
cally started at a word of command and obeyed
without rebellion.
Miss Wallace was delighted. “I wonder why
we expect children to obey without being espe-
cially taught,” she asked herself. “We do not
expect them to play the piano without lessons;
we teach them to read, write, and cipher; but we
blame them if they do not instinctively know
how to obey, and punish them if, like ourselves,
they rebel at doing things which they have no
interest in doing. I wish mothers would drill
their children in the game of ‘Orders’ before
they punish them for not knowing how to obey
Orders.”
[210 |
XVIII
ATTITUDE TOWARD CHRISTMAS
TRADITIONS
(SEVEN YEARS)
XVIII
ATTITUDE TOWARD CHRISTMAS
TRADITIONS
(SEVEN YEARS)
AVo. 7
T was the night before Christmas, and the chil-
dren were hanging up their stockings around
the fireless grate.
“I’m glad we have a chimney for Santa Claus,”
said Grace, “even if our house is heated by a fur-
nace. I should think he'd be glad there was n’t
any fire in the fireplace, would n’t you?”
“Say, mamma,” broke in Lewis, “Billy Gib-
son says there is n’t any real Santa Claus; but
there is, is n’t there P”
“Of course,” replied Mrs. Hayes, winking at
her husband. “How would we get our presents
if there was n’t any Santa Claus P”
“That’s what I told him,” said Lewis, “but
he said our folks gave us the presents. He
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Making the Best of Our Children
does n’t know much, does he P” And Lewis
laughed in derision of his ignorant little friend.
“I’m going to keep awake and see
Santa to-night,” piped up little David, as he
kissed his father good-night and Scampered
off to bed.
After seeing the children safely in bed, Mrs.
Hayes returned to the sitting-room, remarking,
as she took her place at the table: “Mrs. Gibson
called on me to-day and tried to enlighten me
on the Santa Claus question. The family seem
to be quite distressed by our heathenish belief in
Santa Claus. She thought that I ought to tell
the children at once that he is a myth; but I
think life is prosaic enough at its best, and I want
them to have just as much poetry in their lives as
possible. I don’t believe in doing away with the
fairies, brownies, and dear old Santa, and having
only hard, Gradgrind facts. I told Mrs. Gibson
so, and she said she only hoped I would nºt de-
stroy their ultimate faith in me by teaching
them to believe in something that is n’t true. It
seems to me that is pretty far-fetched, don’t you
think So P ‘’
Mr. Hayes smiled his assent, and both bus-
[214 |
Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
ied themselves with filling the row of empty
stockings. -
As soon as the first faint streaks of light illu-
mined the house, the children were awake and
Scampering down to the living-room to examine
their stockings, not heeding their mother’s com-
mand to put on their clothes before going down-
stairs. Mrs. Hayes began hastily dressing her-
self, at the same time saying to her husband,
“Tom, you’ll have to go down cellar and hurry
up that furnace fire, or the children will all take
cold.”
“It’s a pity if a man can’t sleep late on Christ-
mas morning,” growled Mr. Hayes. “He has to
get up early every other morning in the year. I
had supposed he would be left in comfort when
he had a rest from business.”
“Well, I know, Tom, it is too bad; but the
children are downstairs in their night clothes,
looking at their presents, and you know how cold
the house is this time of the day. Can’t you go
down and fix it, and then come back and have
your nap P” &
Still grumbling, Mr. Hayes donned a part of
his apparel, and went sleepily down the two
[215)
Making the Best of Our Children
flights of stairs to perform the allotted task.
Meanwhile his wife had gathered the garments
belonging to the little people, saying, as she
entered the room, “Children, come here at once
and put on your clothes.”
Her words fell upon unheeding ears, however.
The room was full of clamor as the children un-
wrapped their presents and exclaimed over what
they found inside.
Raising her voice, she called again to them,
“Children, did you hear what I said P” '•.
Just then a cry went up from David.
“Mamma,” he cried, “Lewis took my locomo-
tive. Do you suppose Santa Claus would give
such a beauty to a little boy like you? It’s
mine, I tell you.”
“It is n’t, either,” shrieked the little fellow.
“It was in my stocking, and I unwrapped it and
put it down here and you took it.”
“I did nºt, either. I took it from my stocking.”
“Children, stop your quarrelling this minute.”
“Well, mamma, it is mine, is n’t it?” pleaded
David.
“How should I know whose it is P I don’t
know whose stocking it was in. Can’t you tell ?”
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Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
“Well, mamma,” said Lewis, “we took every-
thing out of our stockings at once and piled them
on the floor; and that's what makes David think
it was his, 'cause my pile was right next to his.”
“Now, Lewis Hayes,” suddenly cried out
Grace, “you get off my doll. Mamma, just look
where he stepped on it.”
“Well, you should n’t have your doll on the
floor in the way, then,” growled Lewis.
Seeing that it was useless to try to get the
children into their clothes, Mrs. Hayes pinned
shawls about them and hurried out of the room to
begin her preparations for breakfast. Even in the
kitchen she was not free from trouble, however,
for every once in a while one or the other of the
children would come out with a tale of a broken
toy or some question of ownership to be decided,
until the mother was fairly distracted and ready
to wish there was no such day as Christmas.
Her spirits were not cheered any by the ap-
pearance of her husband, who came into the
kitchen with a scowl on his face as he said:
“Might as well try to sleep in Bedlam as in this
house. How soon will breakfast be ready ?”
“I can have it ready in fifteen minutes if you
[217 |
Making the Best of Our Children
are in a hurry for it, but the children are n’t
dressed. Can’t you do that while I get the break-
fast on the table P”
While the volume of sound issuing from the
living-room did not diminish after the father's
entrance, the character of it changed perceptibly,
giving unmistakable evidence of the rebellion
with which the paternal authority was met.
It was not a happy row of faces that surrounded
the breakfast-table. The children were already
surfeited with sweets and had no desire for food,
but deeply resented being torn away from the
contemplation of the many charms of their
presents.
As soon as they could escape from the table,
they were back in the living-room, and the up-
roar began again, Mr. Hayes hurried from the
house to escape the noise, and Mrs. Hayes tried
in various ways to stem its current, but all to no
avail.
Thus the day wore on, and when at night the
weary, restless, unhappy children were put to
bed, and the mother gathered up the broken and
scattered toys, both she and the father rejoiced
that Christmas came but once a year.
[218)
Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
No. 2
It was the Sunday evening before Christmas,
and Mrs. Gibson was having her usual Sunday
evening talk with her children.
“We had a Christmas story in Sunday-school
to-day,” said little Margaret, as she took her
place on the sofa by her mother's side.
“So did we,” said Billy, as he seated himself
on the opposite side of his mother.
“Tell us a Christmas story,” said little Winnie,
climbing up on her mother’s knee.
“”Trismus story,” echoed Robbie, perching
on the other knee. s
So the mother began to tell them the sweet
story of the Christ-child, who was born in far-off
Palestine and whose life had brought so much
joy and gladness into the world. “And so, you
see, Christ was God’s gift to us,” she said in
conclusion, “and because He gave Himself for
the world we remember His birthday by giving
gifts to others. We give not only to our own
family, but we give to the poor and needy ‘in
His name.’”
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Making the Best of Our Children
“Well, mamma,” broke in Billy, “why do
people say that Santa Claus brings all the
presents? I told Lewis Hayes there was n’t any
Santa Claus, and he said there was, because his
mamma said so and she never told any lies.
Does n’t she know there is n’t any Santa Claus P”
Mrs. Gibson ignored the last question and
asked: “Do you remember the story I told you,
a year or so ago, about Mr. Wind, how he liked
to grab a boy’s cap and run away down the street
with it, and how he played with the leaves in the
Fall P” •
“Oh, yes, of course I do. I always have lots of
fun with jolly Mr. Wind when he's around.”
“And do you remember that other story I told
you about Jack Frost, and how he paints pictures
on the windows P”
“Yes, yes,” cried all of the children together.
“Do you think there is really a Mr. Wind or a
Jack Frost P”
“Oh, no, that's just make-believe,” said
Billy. r
“How about fairies and brownies P”
“They’re just make-believe, too; but they’re
lots of fun.”
[220 |
Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
“Well, that's the way it is with Santa Claus.
Years and years ago, away over in Holland —
and in other countries as well — the people used
to make-believe that all the kind deeds were done
by an old saint whom they called Saint Nicholas,
or Kris Kringle. There had been a man named
Nicholas many, many years before that, and he
was so good to children that he was called their
saint. So, when a father and a mother gave
presents to their children, and the little ones
asked where they came from, the parents would
say, ‘Saint Nicholas must have sent it to you.’
Or, when some one wanted to give a present to
one who was in great need but was too proud to
take the gift, they would say that it had been sent
by the good Saint Nicholas. So, in time, every-
body came to look upon the loving, giving spirit
that was in the world as the expression of the
spirit of the kind old saint. It personified the
giving spirit, as we would say, and was called
Saint Nicholas, only in America we call it Santa
Claus. We make presents for all our beloved
ones, and then we tell them ‘Santa Claus must
have brought them.” We remember the poor and
needy, trying to make their lives a little brighter
[221 |
Making the Best of Our Children
and happier, but we tell them that it was all
Santa Claus. Don’t you think it a nice play P”
The children were unanimous in their appre-
ciation of the play, for the story, though not new,
came to them every Christmas with added
charm.
As soon as the first faint streaks of light illu-
mined the house on Christmas morning, the
children arose and quietly dressed themselves.
They stole about the house like veritable little
brownies, trying to keep quiet while performing
their allotted tasks, so papa could have a morn-
ing nap. It was a well-understood custom of the
household that no gifts were to be opened until
the morning duties were properly disposed of.
The parlor was a room of mystery which was
scrupulously avoided by all, for within its boun-
daries the gifts had all been placed the night be-
fore, with many whisperings and gigglings and
much ostentatious secrecy.
At about half an hour before time for the
breakfast bell, the children gathered in the hall
and softly sang a little Christmas carol, the sweet
notes of which brought Mr. Gibson from dream-
land to a pleasant realization of home.
| 222)
Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
With happy faces and wholesome appetites,
the family gathered around the breakfast-table.
At its conclusion, many willing hands made light
work of the remaining tasks, and soon all were
gathered in the parlor with a forenoon of unin-
terrupted enjoyment before them. The children
seated themselves near the mother, turning ex-
pectant faces toward their father, who had taken
his place beside the large table, whose top was
completely covered with an array of miscel-
laneous packages.
“One at a time, as usual,” remarked Mr.
Gibson, cheerily, as he picked up a large package,
read “For Mother,” and handed it to Mrs.
Gibson.
With eager eyes the children watched her as
she opened the package, and the “Ohs” and
“Ahs” which greeted the gift were as delighted
as though it had been the particular property of
each child.
The next was a gift for little Robbie. All
waited patiently while with eager, trembling
fingers he untied the string, for all recognized
that half of the joy of receiving a gift was un-
wrapping it for one’s self. When this had been
[223 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
fully admired by all, the next gift was handed
out. In this way each gift brought joy to every
member of the family, and no one was surfeited
by receiving all of his presents at once.
When the last gift had been bestowed, the two
older children brought in a bushel basket and
gathered up in it the wrappings which had been
thrown on the floor, while mamma and the
two other children wound up the string, and
in a few moments the room was in comparative
order.
“Let’s make a new Christmas game, chil-
dren,” suggested the mother. “Suppose you all
play with Robbie's gifts for an hour and help
him to enjoy them. Then you can put them on
the table, and all play with Winnie's, and so on,
until all the gifts have been enjoyed.”
The children had been trained to play har-
moniously together, and this suggestion of the
mother's filled the day with happy, united en-
joyment of all the gifts. *
At night the mother called upon them to choose
the gifts for the next day’s enjoyment, and the
rest were put away with the promise that they
should all be brought out again on Sunday and a
[224 |
Attitude toward Christmas Traditions
choice made of those which were suitable for
Sunday games.
Thus the happy day drew to a close; and when
the children, gathering together their toys and
putting them away, said, “Would n’t it be nice
if Christmas came oftener P” their wish was
echoed in the hearts of their loving father and
mother.
15 [225 ||
XIX
CONTRASTING METHODS OF BUSY
MOTHERS
(SEVEN YEARS)
XIX
CONTRASTING METHODS OF BUSY
MOTHERS
(SEVEN YEARS)
JVo. 1
MOTHER is busy sewing. A little girl,
perhaps seven years old, comes and lays
her head against the mother's shoulder, saying,
“What can I do to amuse myself?”
The mother replies petulantly: “I don’t know,
but you can go away and not hinder me. Go and
play.”
“But I don’t know what to play.”
“Play with your doll.”
“I’m tired of playing with her.”
“Play with your tea-set.”
“It’s no fun to play with that alone.”
“Oh, you're a nuisance. Go away and don’t
bother me so. I want to finish this dress for you
to wear to-morrow.”
[229 |
Making the Best of Our Children
“I don’t want any new dress. I want
you.”
“Well, you can’t have me, so just make up
your mind to that. If you don’t quit hindering
me, I’ll have to punish you.”
The child leaves the mother's side, and there
is silence for some minutes. Then the mother
espies the child busy with the scissors and
exclaims: “What are you doing? Cutting up
good pieces of your dress, I declare. Here,
give me those scissors and see if you can
keep out of mischief.” She gives the child
a box on the ear, who thereupon goes away
crying.
“Keep still. I did n’t hurt you. Shut right
up, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Silence for a few moments, while the child
looks gloomily out of the window.
At last she speaks. “Mammal’’
No reply. Louder, “Mammal’’
“Oh, what do you want? Was there ever
such a nuisance P”
“May I go into the garden P”
“No, you'll get into mischief.”
“No, I won’t. Let me go.”
[230 |
Contrasting Methods of Busy Mothers
After more teasing, the mother says, “Well,
do go and let me have some peace; but remem-
ber, you 'll be punished if you get into any
mischief.”
Half an hour later the dress is finished and the
mother calls, “Come in, Nellie, and try on your
new dress.”
Slowly the child responds, and, when the
mother sees her, she springs at her angrily, ex-
claiming: “Now, what have you done ! You’ve
been playing in the water. Just look at your
ress. And you picked my roses, too, when you
knew that Aunt Fannie was coming to-morrow
and I wanted her to see the garden looking
pretty.”
“I did n’t pick any roses, mamma —” began
the child.
“Don’t you tell me stories. It is bad enough to
disobey, without telling stories about it after-
ward. Now you shall go to bed at once and
without your supper. You need n’t cry. It is
what you deserve for being so naughty. What
a trouble children are l’’
So the little child is impatiently sent off to
weep sullenly over her mother's injustice, mutter-
[231 ||
Making the Best of Our Children
ing to herself, “Mean old thing !” and the mother,
who really loves the child, is unconscious that
she has treated her cruelly and thinks that she
herself is the one deserving of sympathy.
No. 2
A MOTHER is sewing. Her little girl comes and
leans against her shoulder, saying, “I want to
be amused.”
The mother, putting her arm tenderly around
the child, kisses her, saying: “If I were not so
busy, dear, I’d come and play with you; but
you’d like me to finish this dress for you to wear
to-morrow, would n’t you ?”
The little girl smiles dubiously.
“I don’t know, mamma; I’m awfully
lonesome.”
“Are you, dear? Well, let’s see if we can
make you less so. Let’s play that you are Mrs.
Gray and then you can come to see me and
bring Angelina, and I’ll give you some cloth
to make a dress for her and we can visit to-
gether.”
The idea pleases the child, and, after the
[232 )
Contrasting Methods of Busy Mothers
pieces are selected, the little girl takes them,
goes away, soon returns with her doll, and knocks
at the door. The mother looks up, smiling. “Oh,
my dear Mrs. Gray ! How glad I am to see you !
And you've brought your dear Angelina | 1
hope you have brought your sewing. I am so
busy making my Helen a dress to wear to-morrow
that I can’t stop my work, but we can sew to-
gether. Are you making Angelina a new dress P
How very pretty l’” — and so the pleasant chat
continues, Mrs. Gray being greatly delighted
and working busily at the sewing for her doll-
daughter.
When a marvellous cap and shawl have been
evolved and duly admired, there appear symp-
toms of loss of interest, and the mother Sug-
gests that Angelina be taken for a walk in the
garden. -
“Only, my dear Mrs. Gray, I hope that she
will not pick my roses. You see, my sister is
coming to-morrow and we want the flowers to
give her a welcome.” t
“Oh, Angelina can be trusted. She won’t
pick them if I tell her not to.”
“That’s just the way with my little girl. It is
Making the Best of Our Children
very nice to have such obedient children, is nºt
it p’”
Mrs. Gray assents and takes her departure.
When the mother has finished the dress, she calis
for Helen, and the little one comes running in,
her apron wet and soiled and a rose in her hand.
The mother looks at her steadily, but says
nothing.
The little girl’s glance falls on the flower she
carries, and she runs at once to her mother,
saying, “I did n’t pick it, mamma; I found it
on the ground.”
The mother smiles, saying, “I am glad to
know that you did not disobey me. But how
comes your apron to be wet?”
The little one looks down surprised. “Why,
I did n’t know it was wet. I was just playing
in the water, but I thought I kept dry. Do you
care, mamma P”
“It would have been better to ask permission;
then I would have told you to put on your rubber
apron and overshoes.”
“I am sorry, mamma.”
“Well, no great harm is done. Now you can
take a bath, and we will try on your new dress,
[234 |
Contrasting Methods of Busy Mothers
and if you'll keep it clean you can wear it for
papa to see when he comes home.”
“Oh, you’re the dearest mamma in the world,
and I always mean to be good and mind you.”
And the happy little one runs off to her bath.
[235 |
XX
A WRONG AND A RIGHT
THANKSGIVING DAY
(EIGHT YEARS)
XX
A WRONG AND A RIGHT
THANKSGIVING DAY
(EIGHT YEARS)
JVo. 7
S. MILLER had decided to have a family
q- reunion on Thanksgiving Day and had
devoted the whole week to preparation. The
morning dawned to the sound of whistling
winds and falling rain, most unwelcome to her
ears, as it entirely upset her plan of having the
children out of doors most of the morning. The
management of three active youngsters, from
three to eight years of age, was problem enough
for any ordinary rainy day, but when that day
was crowded with other, not to be postponed,
work, the problem became more complicated.
After a hurried breakfast Mrs. Miller betook
herself to the task of bed-making, giving orders
to the little folks not to disturb anything in the
[239 |
Making the Best of Our Children
kitchen, not to put things into disorder, not to be
noisy. “Don’t get into any mischief,” was her
final comprehensive and suggestive command.
As she bustled about the upper rooms, she was
conscious that the children were not still; but
that was something of a relief, for stillness, as
far as the children were concerned, was ominous.
On her return to the sitting-room, however, she
found it transformed into a circus, and each
little acrobat hampered somewhat in the per-
formance of his feats by the eating of an
apple. *
“You’ve been to the kitchen and helped
yourselves,” she exclaimed.
“We did n’t 'sturve anything,” asserted six-
year-old Ruth. -
“No, 'tourse not,” corroborated four-year-
old Lynn. *
“But see what a looking place you've made
of the sitting-room,” urged the mother. “What
will Aunt Ethel say? She is to be here at ten
o'clock.”
“Oh, Aunt Ethel won’t care,” was the consol-
ing asseveration of Carl, the eight-year-old.
“Well, I care, and you must straighten these
[240 |
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
things up at once and then let things stay in
order the rest of the day. Do you hear?”
“All right, mamma. But it is n’t ten yet.
Can’t we have something to feed our monkeys
with ?” and three pairs of eager feet trotted after
her into the kitchen.
“Hi-yil here are some nuts.” With a grab
of three small hands into the dish of salted
peanuts, the children hurried shouting back to
their play, followed by the scolding words of the
mother. During the rest of the morning, raids
upon the kitchen were frequent, and, although
Mrs. Miller raised many protestations, the
children never returned to their play empty-
handed.
Mrs. Miller was determined that her dinner
should surpass that given last year by Sister
Emily, - “John’s wife, you know, who thinks
she can cook,” — and she had prepared an
elaborate bill of fare.
While she was in the midst of concocting a
complicated salad, Ruth came screaming into
the kitchen. “Oh, mamma, come quick!
Carl is going to make Lynn fall and hurt
himself.”
16 | 241 )
Making the Best of Our Children
For the moment the salad was forgotten, as
Mrs. Miller rushed to the scene of danger. The
circus seemed to be still in full running order.
Indeed, the greatest feat of the whole programme
was being performed. The table had been
pushed against the wall, a chair placed upon it,
a stool on the chair, and on the stool stood
Master Carl, encouraging little Lynn to swing
by his hands from the picture moulding, a feat
which he seemed to be attempting with full hope
of success.
“Carl tº screamed the mother. “Stop! Get
down You'll make Lynn fall.”
The startled exclamation accomplished what
the mother feared. Carl loosened his hold,
Lynn's grip on the moulding was lost, and the
little acrobat fell to the table, receiving a few
bumps and a severe fright. Fully ten min-
utes elapsed before his screams were silenced
by the application of “ vinegar and brown
paper” to the bruised place, and a big piece
of cake for the injured feelings. When peace
was restored, Mrs. Miller returned to her
salad, but with the nerves strained to a still
higher tension.
[242 |
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
There was hardly time to greet Aunt Ethel
when she arrived, ushered in with a full blast of
trumpets from the band wagon of the circus,
which led the street parade of chairs. With an
apology to the guest and a few “don’ts” to the
children, Mrs. Miller was obliged to return to
her work.
Aunt Ethel was accompanied by her ten-year-
old daughter, known as little Ethel, who was
greeted with a shout of delight from the children
and invited to take part in an Indian hunt,
hastily improvised to take the place of the dis-
organized circus. So, for a time, Aunt Ethel
was at the mercy of the little savages, who
swarmed around and climbed over her in the
ardors of the chase. The appearance of Mr.
Miller on the scene put a temporary quietus on
affairs.
The other guests began to arrive, but Mrs.
Miller had only time for a hasty greeting, as the
dinner was at a stage when to leave it would be
to fail of success. Twelve o’clock came and
passed, one o'clock, and no call to dinner. Mr.
Miller visited the kitchen.
“Dinner most ready ?” he asked.
[243 ]
Making the Best of Our Children
“No, indeed,” was the reply. “You can’t
expect such a dinner as this to be ready by noon.
I am hurrying, but it will probably be half-past
one or two o'clock before it is ready.”
“I’ll give the children a piece, then. They
are clamoring for dinner.” And Mr. Miller
gathered a handful of nuts and raisins out of the
dinner's elaborate dessert, adding an apple and
an orange as an after-thought.
“They don’t need a mouthful,” said his wife;
“but never mind if it will keep them still.”
Dinner came at last. The company was seated,
with one child at the father’s right hand and one
on each side of the mother, with little Ethel by
her mother, and the puny, spoiled son of Uncle
John and Aunt Emily seated between his
parents. - -
“Give me some turkey,” shouted Carl.
“Turkey,” echoed Lynn.
“Uncle Charlie, you need n’t give me any
potato,” cried little Ethel, “and I like lots of
dressing and gravy.”
“So do I, and I want the wishbone.” This
from Uncle John’s son. i
“Oh, I want the wishbone,” exclaimed Lynn.
[24]
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
“I always have it at home,” pouted little
Ethel.
“Children must wait till their elders are
served,” said Mr. Miller, as he sliced the turkey.
“You don’t say that on other days,” asserted
Carl. “You say children are hungry and can’t
wait.”
“Can’t wait,” echoed Lynn.
“Hungry now,” clamored Ruth.
“Oh, well,” said Mr. Miller, “I guess we'll
have more peace if we stop these little mouths.”
So he proceeded to serve the children, who
were ready for the second course by the time all
the guests were served to the first. Then they
began vociferously demanding various things.
The dinner was elaborate, and its discussion
so prolonged that the children, stuffed to reple-
tion, began to be uneasy.
“My tummy aches,” cried Harold. To
soothe his discomfort, Aunt Emily took her son
upon her lap and gave him sips out of her cup of
coffee. Upon this, the other children clamored
for coffee, too. -
“Not milk-coffee,” demanded they. “Harold
has real coffee, and we want real coffee too.”
[245
Making the Best of Our Children
Of course their demands were acceded to, and
temporary quiet ensued.
It was four o’clock before the grown people
left the table; but, long before that time, the
children deserted it and, with hands filled with
nuts and raisins, began a hilarious romp through
the parlor and sitting-room, not even avoiding
the dining-room occasionally in their racing
after one another.
When the adults gathered in the front
room for an after-dinner chat, they were so
overpowered by the children's noise that all com-
fortable conversation was rendered an impossi-
bility, and one by one they took their leave.
Mrs. Miller came from her after-dinner labors
in the kitchen to say good-bye, having had no
real visit with her guests except at the dinner-
table.
At six o'clock the children were again fed
from the fragments of the dinner and put to
bed, to toss through the night in troubled
dreams, arousing the tired mother with appeals
for water and giving her much anxiety by their
feverish condition.
For several days they were cross and peevish
[246 |
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
and had hard colds, over which Mrs. Miller
puzzled. “They could not have been exposed
to draughts,” she said, not realizing that dis-
ordered digestion from stuffing is a prolific cause
of colds.
JWo. 2
It was Mrs. Needham's turn to give the Thanks-
giving dinner, and she had thought much upon
the matter. She could not surpass the banquets
spread by the other women of the family on
previous occasions, but she believed she could
make it more truly an occasion for thanksgiving.
She talked the matter over with her husband, and
he agreed with her.
“We’ll have a good but simple dinner,”
she said, “and we’ll try to make everybody feel
that they have had a good time. And we’ll
have no sick children from overfeeding,” she
added with emphasis.
The children were three in number, — Has-
tings, aged eight; Mildred, “going to be five”;
and Jamie, who was “half past three,” — all
rugged, active children with all the normal child’s
delight in noise. They were deeply interested in
[247 |
Making the Best of Our Children
the coming dinner, and Mrs. Needham saw that,
unless guided in their manifestations of interest,
they might become troublesome.
The Sunday before Thanksgiving she took
the little group to the library and showed them
some pictures of life in Puritan times. She
told them in simple words of the landing of the
Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving Day, and
then set their little brains to searching for their
own causes for thankfulness.
“I’m thankful for my croquet set,” said
Hastings.
“An’ I’m thankful for my sand-machine,”
said Jamie.
“I’m thankful for you and papa,” said loving
little Millie, putting her arm around her mother's
neck.
“And we are very thankful for our blessed
babies,” said mother, kissing each shining face,
while her eyes filled with tears.
Thanksgiving Day dawned with rain and
wind, and prevented the children from carrying
out their plan of a morning out of doors; so Mrs.
Needham felt that in some way she must make
good the disappointment.
[248 ||
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
“This is to be our day to make others happy,”
she said, as they left the breakfast-table. “Who
would like to be mamma's helper?”
Three pairs of hands were waving in the air at
once, and three eager voices shouted, “Me! Me!
Me l’” -
“Well, you can all help me. Millie and Jamie
can help me make the beds, and Hastings can
put the sitting-room in order and dust the
parlor. Then he can take charge of those rooms
for the day and see that they are kept in order.”
There was no dissenting voice to this proposi-
tion. The older boy felt proud to be trusted to
work alone, and the younger ones were happy to
work with mamma. They straightened the
bedclothes on one side as mamma pulled them
up on the other, tucked the corners, patted the
pillows, hung up “nighties,” and felt that they
were of great assistance.
When it came time for Mrs. Needham to
betake herself to the kitchen, she brought out two
seed and flower catalogues, and suggested that
the two older children should color the pictures,
— a plan which met their hearty approval. She
left them anxiously discussing what colors should
[249 |
Making the Best of Our Children
be used on certain flowers, feeling sure that they
were disposed of for the rest of the morning.
Little Jamie she took with her to the kitchen,
and settled him at the table with a tiny rolling-
pin, cake-cutter, and a bit of dough, and he
“helped mamma cook.” -
Dinner was to be at half-past twelve as usual,
for Mrs. Needham said she saw no reason why
people should be made hungry and impatient
in order to make them thankful for their dinner.
The guests arrived in due season, and the
children were entertained by being shown the
paintings done by Mildred and Hastings, and
were called upon to decide what color to paint
the beets and cucumbers, the roses and carna-
tions; but so quietly was this done that the
grown-up people, who wanted to talk together,
were not disturbed.
Mrs. Needham had only time for hasty greet-
ings, but the dinner was served promptly and
without nervous haste.
When the six children came into the dining-
room, they uttered shouts of joy.
“Oh oh! oh!” they exclaimed; “a little
table all for us!” It was indeed a little table,
[250 |
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
almost too small, but the children did not care
for that. They took their places, looking with
delighted anticipation towards the larger table.
“Hastings is going to wait on his table,” said
Mrs. Needham, “and Cousin Carrie will wait
on us.” A little impatiently, perhaps, but quietly,
the older children waited, until with an air of
great dignity the little fellow served the young
guests at his father’s direction, and then brought
his own dinner and took his place with them.
The dinner was little more than an ordinary
company meal,—turkey, cranberry sauce, simply
cooked vegetables, and pumpkin pie. But Mrs.
Needham had placed at each plate a small
envelope which was found to contain a laughable
recital of something which the guest was directed
to read to himself while the dinner was being
served and then to find some place in the con-
versation where it could be related appropriately.
As these stories were based upon all sorts of
conditions and incidents, the endeavors of each
guest to turn the conversation along the line of
his special story created much amusement.
After dinner the table was cleared, the food put
away, the dishes piled up to await a more con-
[251 |
Making the Best of Our Children
venient season, and then Mrs. Needham ap-
peared with a most entertaining Thanksgiving
story, which the young lady who had studied
elocution was asked to read. The musical
young man was then requested to preside at the
piano, while they all joined in singing “My
Country, *t is of thee.” Cousin Carrie had been
asked to learn Mrs. Hemans’ “Landing of the
Pilgrim Fathers,” and recited it effectively.
Then a spontaneous conversation, made up of
the recollections of the older people, interested
them, while the children, in charge of Cousin
Carrie, were allowed the sitting and dining-
rooms as their exclusive domain.
Mrs. Needham and the young girl had talked
the matter over beforehand and arranged a
programme of diversions which would be enter-
taining yet not noisy. First came a “whisper
hunt” for peanuts, which were hidden in all
sorts of places, even the upstairs rooms being
included in the hunting-grounds. On tiptoe
and with many giggling whispers, the little people
prosecuted their search. One peanut was to be
paid as a fine for every word spoken above a
whisper, while the boy and girl having the
[252 | --
Wrong and Right Thanksgiving Day
greatest number at the end of the search were
rewarded with dainty souvenirs.
After this came “Still Hide and Seek.” The
little company seated themselves in a circle on
the floor, and then one of the number would
Say, “I am hiding; where P”
Then the others would guess in turn. “In
the parlor.”
“No.”
“Under the table.”
“No.”
“In the jardinière.”
“Yes.” Then the successful guesser took
his turn at hiding, and so the merry game
proceeded, the strangest hiding-places being
selected, but all finally guessed by the eager
little minds.
Other games equally entertaining and quiet
kept the children happy until the hour for
departure came, when one and all said that they
had had a most enjoyable time. Through it all
not a word was said about the dinner, and yet
Mrs. Needham was happy.
A simple supper of bread and milk satisfied
the children, and after they were in bed, sleeping
[253 |
Making the Best of Our Children
the quiet sleep of healthy, happy childhood,
Mrs. Needham washed the dishes and Mr.
Needham wiped them, while together they
reviewed their causes for thankfulness and
rejoiced in their happy Thanksgiving Day.
END OF SERIES I
DO NOT REMOVE
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