"I try to think so," returned the mother, with a deep sigh. "Willie's indomitable will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from my side of the family. None of the children take after their father at all. Ebbie was a little like his father's folks at first, but I soon got it out of him and made him altogether like my people. I do not think anybody could keep Willie away from me except by superior physical force. He absolutely adores his mother, as my other children do. You never saw such beautiful sentiment as they have. The other day, now, when I went away and left Rebbie alone in my apartment, she took down my best hat and put it on. The poor little thing wanted to be near her mother. Is it not touching?"

"It is indeed," Dorothy a.s.sented, dryly.

"My children have never been punished," continued Mrs. Holmes, now auspiciously launched upon her favourite theme. "It has never been necessary. I rule them entirely through love, and they are so accustomed to my methods that they bitterly resent any interference by outsiders.

Why, just before we came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the left eye of a woman who tried to take his dog away from him. He did it with his little fist and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not wonderful to see such strength and power of direction in one so young? The woman was in the hospital when we came away, and I trust by this time, she has learned not to interfere with Ebbie. No one is allowed to interfere with my children."

"Apparently not," remarked Mrs. Carr, somewhat cynically.

"It is beautiful to be a mother--the most beautiful thing on earth! Just think how much I have done for the world!" Her sallow face glowed with the conscious virtue bestowed by one of the animal functions upon those who have performed it.

"In what way?" queried Mrs. Carr, wholly missing the point.

"Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and Rebbie! No public service can for a moment be compared with that! All other things sink into insignificance beside the glorious gift of maternity. Look at Willie--a form that a sculptor might dream of for a lifetime and never hope to imitate--a head that already has inspired great artists! The gentleman who took Willie's last tintype said that he had never seen such perfect lines, and insisted on taking several for fear something should happen to Willie. He wanted to keep some of them for himself--it was pathetic, the way he pleaded, but I made him sell me all of them. Willie is mine and I have the first right to his tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at his play in black and white and sent it to one of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt they gave her a fortune for it, but it never occurred to her to give us anything more than one copy of the paper."

"Which paper was it?"

"One of the so-called comic weeklies. You know they publish superb artistic things. I think they are doing a wonderful work in educating the ma.s.ses to a true appreciation of art. One of the wonderful parts of it was that Willie knew all about it and was not in the least conceited. Any other child would have been set up at being a model for a great artist, but Willie was not affected at all. He has so much character!"

At this point the small Rebecca entered, dragging her doll by one arm, and munching a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with mola.s.ses.

"I distinctly said jam," remarked Mrs. Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.

I do not know that mola.s.ses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.

Carr?"

"I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."

"There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too stingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused to let him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milk instead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to have all the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knew more about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. I myself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolish head with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of an army. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.

"Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth is there. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."

"Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.

"Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make her grow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children's teeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.

Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to share her bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist, or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll the mola.s.ses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautiful spirit in one so young?"

Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his wood carving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.

"There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was only loving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister's hair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie is really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her glorious blonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"

It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like a plate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put the thought into words.

Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop of glee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.

Holmes. "How----"

From upstairs came a cry of "Help! Help!"

m.u.f.fled though the voice was, it plainly issued from Uncle Israel's room, and under the impression that the bath cabinet had finally set the house on fire, Mrs. Carr ran hastily upstairs, followed closely by Mrs. Holmes, who was flanked at the rear by the grinning Willie and the interested twins.

From a confused heap of bedding, Uncle Israel's scarlet ankles waved frantically. "Help! Help!" he cried again, his voice being almost wholly deadened by the pillows, which had fallen on him after the collapse.

Dorothy helped the trembling old man to his feet. He took a copious draught from the pain-killer, then sat down on his trunk, much perturbed.

Investigation proved that the bed cord had been cut in a dozen places by some one working underneath, and that the entire structure had instantly caved in when Uncle Israel had crept up to the summit of his bed and lain down to take his afternoon nap. When questioned, Willie proudly admitted that he had done it.

"Go down and ask Mrs. Smithers for the clothes-line," commanded Dorothy, sternly.

"I won't," said Willie, smartly, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You had better go yourself, Mrs. Carr," suggested Mrs. Holmes. "Willie is tired. He has played hard all day and needs rest. He must not on any account over-exert himself, and, besides, I never allow any one else to send my children on errands. They obey me and me alone."

"Go yourself," said Willie, having gathered encouragement from the maternal source.

"I'll go," wheezed Uncle Israel. "I can't sleep in no other bed.

Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty, and I took two colds at once sleepin' in one of 'em when I knowed better 'n to try it." He tottered out of the room, the very picture of wretchedness.

"Was it not clever of Willie?" whispered Mrs. Holmes, admiringly, to Dorothy. "So much ingenuity--such a fine sense of humor!"

"If he were my child," snapped Dorothy, at last losing her admirable control of a tempestuous temper, "he'd be soundly thrashed at least three times a week!"

"I do not doubt it," replied Mrs. Holmes, contemptuously. "These married old maids, who have no children of their own, are always wholly out of sympathy with a child's nature."

"When I was young," retorted Mrs. Carr, "children were not allowed to rule the entire household. There was a current superst.i.tion to the effect that older people had some rights."

"And yet," Mrs. Holmes continued, meditatively, "as the editor of _The Ladies' Own_ so pertinently asks, what is a house for if not to bring up a child in? The purpose of architecture is defeated, where there are no children."

Uncle Israel, accompanied by d.i.c.k, hobbled into the room with the clothes-line. Mrs. Holmes discreetly retired, followed by her offspring, and, late in the afternoon, when Dorothy and d.i.c.k were well-nigh f.a.gged out, the structure was in place again. Tremulously the exhausted owner lay down upon it, and asked that his supper be sent to his room.

By skilful manoeuvring with Mrs. Smithers, d.i.c.k compelled the proud-spirited Willie to take up Uncle Israel's tray and wait for it.

"I'll tell my mother," whimpered the sorrowful one.

"I hope you will," replied d.i.c.k, significantly; but for some reason of his own, Willie neglected to mention it.

At dinner-time, Mr. Perkins drew a rolled ma.n.u.script, tied with a black ribbon, from his breast pocket, and, without preliminary, proceeded to read as follows:

TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEEZER JUDSON

A face we loved has vanished, A voice we adored is now still, There is no longer any music In the tinkling rill.

His hat is empty of his head, His snuff-box has no sneezer, His cane is idle in the hall For gone is Ebeneezer.

Within the house we miss him, Let fall the sorrowing tear, Yet shall we gather as was our wont Year after sunny year.

He took such joy in all his friends That he would have it so; He left his house to relatives But none of us need go.

In fact, we're all related, Sister, friend, and brother; And in this hour of our grief We must console each other.

He would not like to have us sad, Our smiles were once his pleasure And though we cannot smile at him, His memory is our treasure.

When he had finished, there was a solemn silence, which was at last relieved by Mrs. Dodd. "Poetry broke out in my first husband's family,"