Chapter Ninth.
"A child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame."--Prov. 29:15.
May had come again, waking the flowers with her sunny skies and balmybreath, and our friends at Pleasant Plains spent much of their timein their gardens. Delighting in each other's society they were oftentogether, now in Mr. Keith's grounds, now in Dr. Landreth's, and anonin Wallace Ormsby's.
Mrs. Keith missed her sons, who had always relieved her of the heavypart of the work of cultivating the flowers she so loved, but theirplace was filled, so far as that was concerned, by a hired gardener,and she found herself better able to endure the absence of Rupertand Don out of doors than in, especially when her daughters and babygrandsons were her companions.
Mildred took great pleasure in the laying out and improvement of thecomparatively extensive grounds about her new home, and husband,mother, aunt, and sisters entered heartily into her plans, helping withadvice and suggestions, sometimes followed, sometimes not, but alwaysappreciated as evidence of their affectionate interests.
As for her husband, she and all her doings were altogether perfect inhis eyes. She was queen of his small realm, and could do no wrong; sheexcelled every other woman as wife, mother, and housekeeper; her tastewas beyond criticism, and whatever she desired must be done.
He was nearly as great a paragon in her eyes, except as regardedthe training of their child, to whom he would have shown unlimitedindulgence, if she could have seen it without remonstrance. That shecould not, knowing how ruinous it would be; but her disapproval wasnever manifested before Percy. She would not have him know or suspectthat his parents differed in regard to his training.
And, indeed, it was only when she and Charlie were quite alone that sheaddressed him on the subject; never then in an unkind, fault-findingway, but with gentle persuasion and arguments drawn from observationand the teachings of Scripture.
Loving the child with an affection even deeper and tenderer than his,she was yet much more disposed to curb and restrain where she saw it tobe for his good; her sense of parental responsibility was far strongerthan the father's, and while he looked upon Percy as, for the presentat least, scarcely more than a pretty pet and plaything, she regardedthe child as a sacred trust, a little immortal whose welfare for timeand eternity might depend largely upon her faithfulness in righttraining and teaching.
"My dear Milly, he is so young, such a mere baby," the doctor wouldsometimes say, "that it can't do him much harm to get his own wayfor a while; it will be time enough a year or two hence to begin hiseducation."
"A very great mistake," Mildred would answer gravely; "I have had agood deal to do with young children, and am convinced that a child'seducation begins as soon as it knows its mother's voice and can notethe changing expression of her countenance. And, Charlie, it is fareasier to learn than to unlearn; if we let our child acquire bad habitsat the start it will be a far more difficult task to break them up andsubstitute good ones, than to train him to such in the very beginning."
Zillah was quite as devoted a wife and competent a housekeeper as herolder sister, but not so wise and faithful a mother. No child was morecomfortably or tastefully clad than hers, or had more tender caresseslavished upon it; she meant also to take proper care of his bodilyhealth, and was quite resolved in the long run to train him up in theway he should go; she wanted him to grow up a good man and a strong andhealthy one, but in the mean time was often weakly indulgent, to thedamage of both his physical and moral natures.
The two sisters, taking work and babies along, were spending a sociableafternoon with their mother.
The little boys, playing about the room, met with an occasional mishap.
Percy tripped on the carpet and fell, striking his head against the legof the table.
He burst into a cry, and Annis, running to pick him up, exclaimed, "Oh,the poor little dear! that did hurt him, I know."
But Mildred, taking him from her, said in a sprightly tone, "Oh, he'smother's soldier boy; he isn't going to cry for a trifle. But whata blow the table got! poor table!" and she bent down and stroked andpatted it pityingly.
Percy stopped crying to echo her words and imitate her action. "Percydidn't doe to hurt oo," he went on; "Percy tiss the p'ace and mate itwell," suiting the action to the word.
Then his mother having dried his eyes and given him a kiss, he wentback to his play.
Zillah had watched the little scene with interest.
"Is that the way you do?" she said to Mildred. "Don told me that wasyour way, and I believe, as he says, it is better than mine."
"What is yours?" asked Mildred, resuming the sewing she had dropped onPercy's fall.
"Oh, I've always made a fuss over my boy's hurts, pitied him, andblamed the chair, or table, or whatever he had struck against, forhurting him, and have pretended to punish it, just to take hisattention from his hurt and so stop his crying."
"Are you not afraid of teaching him to be selfish and revengeful?"Mildred asked, with a look of grave concern.
"I never thought of that, and am afraid it may," said Zillah frankly."I shall not do so any more."
Annis was laying herself out for the entertainment of her littlenephews. Presently she came with a request. "The boys want me to takethem out to the garden to play horse. May I?"
"I have no objection to Percy's going," said Mildred; "the fresh airwill be very good for him, I think, as well as the exercise."
"But I don't want Stuart to go," Zillah said; "he has a bad cold, andought to be kept in the house. Slip away from him if you can, Annis,for if he sees you and Percy start out he'll scream himself sick. Or ifnot himself, other people," she added with a laugh.
"I'll do my best, but you will have to engage his attention for awhile," said Annis.
"Yes. Stuart, come here; mamma wants to speak to you."
"No; me's doin' out; p'ay horse wis Percy," the child returned, with ascowl and a shake of his little shoulders.
Zillah put down her sewing, rose, and went to him. "Come with mamma,pet," she said in coaxing tones, stooping down to caress and fondlehim. "Don't you want to go out to the kitchen and see what Celestia Annis doing?"
"No, me _don't_; me's doin' out-doors to p'ay horse wis Percy," shoutedthe child defiantly, quite seeing through the artifice.
Zillah began to grow impatient. "No, you are not," she saidperemptorily; "you cannot play out of doors at all to-day, because youhave a bad cold, and it would make you sick."
"I will! I _will_! I _will_!" screamed the child, stamping his footat her and clenching his tiny fist. "Ope de door dis minute, naughtymamma. I _will_ doe out p'ay horse."
There was something comical in his baby rage, and unfortunately Zillahcould not refrain from laughing, though the other ladies looked on ingrave concern.
Her mirth had not a happy effect upon the little rebel. Bursting fromher grasp, he ran toward the door just closing on Annis and Percy,screaming at the top of his voice, "Let me doe wis you, Annis! Ope dedoor," pounding on it with his fists, then taking hold of the knob andtrying to turn it for himself.
"You bad boy, I'm ashamed of you," Zillah said, taking his hand, whichhe instantly snatched away; "stop this screaming, or I'll take youhome."
"No; sha'n't doe home. Me's doin' out p'ay horse wis Percy."
"I do believe he's the most persistent child I ever saw or thatever was made!" Zillah exclaimed with angry impatience, apparentlyaddressing the company in general. "I wonder if it would hurt him to goout for a little while if I wrap him up well. Do you think it would,mother?"
"Perhaps not physically, Zillah," Mrs. Keith answered, with look andtone of grave disapproval, "but morally it certainly would have a verybad effect; you have told him positively that he shall not go out toplay to-day, and if you break your word how can you expect him ever toesteem his mother a perfectly truthful woman?"
"You make a very serious matter of it, mother," Zillah said, reddening.
"It is a very serious thing, my dear daughter," Mrs.
Keith answered, inher own sweet, gentle way, and with a look of loving sympathy.
She would have said more, but Stuart at that instant renewed thescreams he had ceased for a moment, upon perceiving symptoms ofrelenting on his mother's part.
But Zillah now felt that for very shame she must remain firm. Shetried the old plan of coaxing and wheedling--offered picture-books,stories, candy--but nothing would do except the forbidden pleasure,and at length, losing all patience, she took him into another room andgave him the punishment Don would have liked to prescribe on a formeroccasion. Then she cried over him while he sobbed himself to sleep inher arms.
Having laid him on a bed, covered him carefully, and left a tender kisson his cheek, she went back to the sitting-room where the others were.
Sitting down by her mother's side she took up her sewing, and tried togo on with it, but her hands trembled and tears dimmed her sight. Shedropped the work to wipe them away.
"O mother," she said in quivering tones, "what shall I do with thatchild? I can never bring him up right, as you have brought up allyours."
"It is a great work, dear, to train up a child in the way he shouldgo," Mrs. Keith answered in sympathizing tones; "and the wisest of usmay well ask, 'Who is sufficient for these things?' yet rejoice andtake courage in the assurance that 'our sufficiency is of God.' Do notforget His gracious promise, 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask ofGod, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shallbe given him.'
"Whatever success I may have had in bringing up my children aright hasbeen given me in answer to prayer and in fulfilment of that promise."
"I love him so dearly I can hardly bear to refuse him anything," sighedZillah, wiping her eyes and resuming her work.
"I hope, daughter, that you love him well enough to give yourself thepain of refusing him hurtful indulgences," was her mother's graveresponse. "It often requires deeper, truer love to deny than to grant,to punish than to let slip; but 'a child left to himself bringeth hismother to shame.'"
"Yes, mother, I know that is Bible truth, and I do not intend to leavemine to himself. I do really earnestly desire to bring him up for Godand heaven, faulty as my training has been, I fear, thus far. But he isso young yet; it seems so hard to discipline such a mere baby."
"I know it does, my dear child--I have not forgotten my ownexperience--but I assure you you will spare much suffering to both himand yourself by beginning early the lesson that parental authority isto be respected, and prompt and cheerful obedience rendered.
"Be very gentle with him, giving your directions in the form ofrequests rather than commands, unless it becomes necessary to orderhim. I think children should be treated with consideration andpoliteness as well as grown people; it is the best way to teach them tobe polite and considerate toward others."
"It was your way of teaching us, mother," remarked Mildred, with anaffectionate, smiling glance into her mother's sweet, placid face.
"And a very effectual one it has proved in their case," remarked MissStanhope.
"I think it has," said Mrs. Keith; then went on: "There is anotherthing, my two dear daughters, that I wish to impress upon you: itis the paramount importance of always keeping your word with yourchildren. Try not to make hasty promises or threats, which you mayregret having to carry out; but having once passed your word, letnothing induce you to be false to it.
"I need scarcely urge upon you the importance of being always entirelytruthful with them, since you know how severely the Scriptures condemnany, even the slightest, departure from truth."
"I should hope not, indeed, mother," said Zillah. "I know I havenot always been firm with my boy, have sometimes let him gain hiswishes--which I have at first denied--by persistent fretting andcrying, and have often too coaxed when I ought to have demandedobedience; but I have never tried to secure his obedience by deceivingor telling him what was not true."
"It is surprising what very lax ideas many persons--yes, evensome who profess to be Christians--have in regard to that thing,"remarked Miss Stanhope. "Shrinking from the exertion or the pain ofenforcing obedience by legitimate means, they resort to subterfuge,prevarication, or even downright falsehood.
"I have heard a mother say to her refractory or crying child, 'If youdon't come into the house now a big black bear will catch you;' or, 'Ifyou don't stop that screaming a dog will come and bite you.'
"Besides that, they will utter threats they have not the remotestintention of carrying out, a fact which the little ones are not slow todiscover and act upon."
At this point the conversation was interrupted by a call from twoneighbors. It was of unfashionable length, and the talk ran principallyupon housekeeping, children, and servants.
One of the callers, an elderly lady, had several little anecdotes totell of the smart sayings and doings of her grandchildren; one of themso aptly illustrating Miss Stanhope's recent remarks that Mildredand Zillah could not refrain from a furtive exchange of significantglances. This was the narrative that drew them forth.
"Two of my grandchildren were staying at our house last week--MaryBronson, my son's daughter--she's ten years old--and Tommy Linn, myoldest daughter's child, he's about five, and has a great notion ofbeing a man; he's out of petticoats now, and you couldn't punish himworse than by making him put them on again.
"Well, the second night he was with us I was in a quandary. Hisnight-gown had been hung out to air, and a shower had come up and madeit soaking wet, for you see nobody had thought to bring it in, and hismother had sent only one.
"When Tommy saw the condition it was in he spoke right up:'Grandmother, don't you give me a girl's night-gown, 'cause I sha'n'twear it. I want to have a man's.'
"'Yes,' I said, 'so you shall. Mary, you go and get one of his UncleSam's for him.' Then I whispered to her, 'Bring one of yours.'
"So she brought it, and as I shook it out Tommy looked at it verysuspiciously. 'Is that a man's?' he says.
"'Yes,' says I, 'it's one of your Uncle Sam's.' So he let me put it onhim, and went off to sleep as quiet and contented as could be."
"But do you think it was right?" asked Miss Stanhope in a tone ofgentle remonstrance. "It was not the truth you told the child."
"No," acknowledged Mrs. Bronson reluctantly, "but what is a body todo? You have to manage children somehow, and if I hadn't deceived him,there'd have been a regular battle. What would you have done in myplace?"
"Anything, I hope, rather than tell an untruth to one child and give alesson in falsehood and deception to the other. Excuse an old woman'splain speaking, but how can you ever tell that little Mary that lyingis a great sin--a sin that must cost the loss of the soul if unrepentedof and unforsaken? or how blame her if she, at some future day, putsyour lesson in practice to deceive you, perchance in some matter ofvital importance to you or herself?"
There was silence in the room for some moments, while Mrs. Bronson satlooking extremely uncomfortable; then she said, with an attempt tospeak lightly, "You make a very serious matter of it, Miss Stanhope."
"It _is_ a serious matter," returned Aunt Wealthy, "as I am sure youwill acknowledge upon thoughtful consideration. I am sorry to cause youmental disquiet, but 'faithful are the wounds of a friend,' the wiseman says."
"That is true, and I dare say you are right. I shall think over whatyou have been saying," Mrs. Bronson returned, rising to take leave.
"What do you think of it all?" she asked her companion as they left thehouse.
"I'm afraid the old lady was right, Sarah, though I own I neverthought of it in that light before--telling fibs to children to keepthem from misbehaving, I mean. I've done it occasionally myself, but Idon't think I ever shall again. As she said, how can we expect them tospeak the truth if we are not always careful to do it ourselves?"
"Annis," Mildred called to her sister, "please bring Percy in now; itis growing too late for him to be out."
"He doesn't want to come," was the answer; "can't he stay out a littlelonger?"
"No;
the sun is near setting, and the air is growing quite cold,"Mildred answered, running down into the garden and taking her littleboy by the hand. "Come, son, we must go in now, for mamma does not wanther dear baby to get sick."
"No; won't get sick," he asserted in the most positive manner. "P'ease,mamma, let Percy tay wee 'ittle bit longer."
"No, darling; but if it is a good day to-morrow you shall have a nicelong play and a drive in the carriage with papa and mamma, beside."
She was leading him gently on toward the house while she spoke. Thechild did not resist, but he set up a loud wail.
"My little boy must not be naughty," Mildred said, in a gentlyreproving tone.
Still the crying continued, and indeed increased in violence as she ledhim over the threshold into the hall. There she stopped, and stoopingdown to take off his out-door garments, "Percy," she said firmly, "youmust stop this noise at once. Mamma is very sorry her little boy isso naughty. Now be good, and we will go into the parlor to see deargrandma and the rest, and you may get up on a chair by the window andwatch for grandpa, and papa, and Uncle Wallace to come to supper.They'll be coming pretty soon, and then we will have our supper, andafter that Percy shall go to his nice little bed."
Being of a pleasant disposition, and having already learned byexperience that nothing was ever gained from his mother by fretting,crying, or teasing, the little fellow presently ceased his wailing,allowed her to dry his eyes, gave her a kiss and a promise to be good,and was so for the rest of his stay at his grandfather's.
Zillah had watched the little scene with interest, and had not failedto note the fact that Don's report of Mildred's management was correct;that she did not caress and fondle her child while he was misbehaving,but treated him in a way to make it evident to him that his conduct wasdispleasing to her.
At the tea-table there was again an illustration of the difference inthe training the two children were receiving. Percy was given onlyplain, wholesome food suited to his infant years. Stuart, refusing tobe content with that, was permitted to eat cake, preserves, meat--infact, everything upon the table to which he chose to take a fancy.
"Is that the way you feed your child?" the doctor asked in a tone ofsurprise quite unmingled with approval.
"Yes," replied Wallace carelessly, "he eats whatever we do; we let himhave anything on the table that he fancies. You don't think it the bestplan, I see."
"No; unless your object is to make an invalid of him."
"I couldn't bear to eat dainties without giving my child a share!"exclaimed Zillah with some heat. "And it never hurts him."
"I think you are mistaken there," said the doctor; "that suchindulgence does not immediately result in violent illness is no proofthat it does no harm. I am afraid you will discover one day, when it istoo late, that very serious harm has been done. There is great dangerthat his digestive organs will give way under the great strain put uponthem, and if you do not lose him, you will have him a sufferer forlife."
Zillah looked startled and alarmed, while Wallace, turning to her,said, "If that's the case, little wife, we must promptly turn over anew leaf with him. I'm afraid Charlie has the right of it; you know howrestless Stuart is often at night, and I dare say it's all owing to ourfoolish habit of indulging him in eating rich and unwholesome food."
"I suppose so; I begin to think I am not fit to have a child," Zillahsaid half impatiently, half sadly, "for my management so far seems tohave been all blunders."
"Live and learn, daughter," her father said cheerily; "don't bedisheartened, but set about correcting your mistakes as fast aspossible. I don't think," he added, patting Stuart's head, "that mynamesake grandson is quite ruined yet. Do you, Uncle Charlie?"
"Oh no, indeed!" replied the doctor; "he's a fine little fellow, andI want him to have a chance to continue such, physically as well asotherwise."
"It shall not be his father's fault if he doesn't," said Wallace.
"Nor his mother's," added Zillah. "Wallace, we would rather live onvery plain fare ourselves than have our boy injured with rich living,wouldn't we?"
"Certainly; but perhaps that need not be the only alternative," heanswered, with a good-humored smile.
"I'm sure I don't want to have a battle with him at every meal," shesaid disconsolately.
"Perhaps that may be avoided by sending him to his play before bringingon objectionable dishes," said her husband.