Little Women
domestic cares oppress them. Want of exercise robs them of
cheerfulness, and too much devotion to that idol of American women, the
teapot, makes them feel as if they were all nerve and no muscle.
“Yes,” she would say, looking in the glass, “I’m getting old and ugly.
John doesn’t find me interesting any longer, so he leaves his faded
wife and goes to see his pretty neighbor, who has no incumbrances.
Well, the babies love me, they don’t care if I am thin and pale and
haven’t time to crimp my hair, they are my comfort, and some day John
will see what I’ve gladly sacrificed for them, won’t he, my precious?”
To which pathetic appeal Daisy would answer with a coo, or Demi with a
crow, and Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel, which
soothed her solitude for the time being. But the pain increased as
politics absorbed John, who was always running over to discuss
interesting points with Scott, quite unconscious that Meg missed him.
Not a word did she say, however, till her mother found her in tears one
day, and insisted on knowing what the matter was, for Meg’s drooping
spirits had not escaped her observation.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone except you, Mother, but I really do need
advice, for if John goes on much longer I might as well be widowed,”
replied Mrs. Brooke, drying her tears on Daisy’s bib with an injured
air.
“Goes on how, my dear?” asked her mother anxiously.
“He’s away all day, and at night when I want to see him, he is
continually going over to the Scotts’. It isn’t fair that I should have
the hardest work, and never any amusement. Men are very selfish, even
the best of them.”
“So are women. Don’t blame John till you see where you are wrong
yourself.”
“But it can’t be right for him to neglect me.”
“Don’t you neglect him?”
“Why, Mother, I thought you’d take my part!”
“So I do, as far as sympathizing goes, but I think the fault is yours,
Meg.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Let me show you. Did John ever neglect you, as you call it, while you
made it a point to give him your society of an evening, his only
leisure time?”
“No, but I can’t do it now, with two babies to tend.”
“I think you could, dear, and I think you ought. May I speak quite
freely, and will you remember that it’s Mother who blames as well as
Mother who sympathizes?”
“Indeed I will! Speak to me as if I were little Meg again. I often feel
as if I needed teaching more than ever since these babies look to me
for everything.”
Meg drew her low chair beside her mother’s, and with a little
interruption in either lap, the two women rocked and talked lovingly
together, feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than
ever.
“You have only made the mistake that most young wives make—forgotten
your duty to your husband in your love for your children. A very
natural and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be
remedied before you take to different ways, for children should draw
you nearer than ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and
John had nothing to do but support them. I’ve seen it for some weeks,
but have not spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time.”
“I’m afraid it won’t. If I ask him to stay, he’ll think I’m jealous,
and I wouldn’t insult him by such an idea. He doesn’t see that I want
him, and I don’t know how to tell him without words.”
“Make it so pleasant he won’t want to go away. My dear, he’s longing
for his little home, but it isn’t home without you, and you are always
in the nursery.”
“Oughtn’t I to be there?”
“Not all the time, too much confinement makes you nervous, and then you
are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well
as to the babies. Don’t neglect husband for children, don’t shut him
out of the nursery, but teach him how to help in it. His place is there
as well as yours, and the children need him. Let him feel that he has a
part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be
better for you all.”
“You really think so, Mother?”
“I know it, Meg, for I’ve tried it, and I seldom give advice unless
I’ve proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on
just as you are, feeling as if I didn’t do my duty unless I devoted
myself wholly to you. Poor Father took to his books, after I had
refused all offers of help, and left me to try my experiment alone. I
struggled along as well as I could, but Jo was too much for me. I
nearly spoiled her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about
you till I fell sick myself. Then Father came to the rescue, quietly
managed everything, and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake,
and never have been able to get on without him since. That is the
secret of our home happiness. He does not let business wean him from
the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let
domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part
alone in many things, but at home we work together, always.”
“It is so, Mother, and my great wish is to be to my husband and
children what you have been to yours. Show me how, I’ll do anything you
say.”
“You always were my docile daughter. Well, dear, if I were you, I’d let
John have more to do with the management of Demi, for the boy needs
training, and it’s none too soon to begin. Then I’d do what I have
often proposed, let Hannah come and help you. She is a capital nurse,
and you may trust the precious babies to her while you do more
housework. You need the exercise, Hannah would enjoy the rest, and John
would find his wife again. Go out more, keep cheerful as well as busy,
for you are the sunshine-maker of the family, and if you get dismal
there is no fair weather. Then I’d try to take an interest in whatever
John likes—talk with him, let him read to you, exchange ideas, and help
each other in that way. Don’t shut yourself up in a bandbox because you
are a woman, but understand what is going on, and educate yourself to
take your part in the world’s work, for it all affects you and yours.”
“John is so sensible, I’m afraid he will think I’m stupid if I ask
questions about politics and things.”
“I don’t believe he would. Love covers a multitude of sins, and of whom
could you ask more freely than of him? Try it, and see if he doesn’t
find your society far more agreeable than Mrs. Scott’s suppers.”
“I will. Poor John! I’m afraid I have neglected him sadly, but I
thought I was right, and he never said anything.”
“He tried not to be selfish, but he has felt rather forlorn, I fancy.
This is just the time, Meg, when young married people are apt to grow
apart, and the very time when they ought to be most together, for the
first tenderness soon wears off, unless care is taken to preserve it.
And no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years
of the little lives given to them to train. Don’t let John be a
stranger to the babies, for they will do more to keep him safe and
happy in this world of trial and temptation than anything else, and
through them you will learn to know and love one another as you should.
Now, dear, good-by. Think over Mother’s preachment, act upon it if it
seems good, and God bless you all.”
Meg did think it over, found it good, and acted upon it, though the
first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it. Of course
the children tyrannized over her, and ruled the house as soon as they
found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted.
Mamma was an abject slave to their caprices, but Papa was not so easily
subjugated, and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt
at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son. For Demi inherited a
trifle of his sire’s firmness of character, we won’t call it obstinacy,
and when he made up his little mind to have or to do anything, all the
king’s horses and all the king’s men could not change that pertinacious
little mind. Mamma thought the dear too young to be taught to conquer
his prejudices, but Papa believed that it never was too soon to learn
obedience. So Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook to
‘wrastle’ with ‘Parpar’, he always got the worst of it, yet like the
Englishman, baby respected the man who conquered him, and loved the
father whose grave “No, no,” was more impressive than all Mamma’s love
pats.
A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social
evening with John, so she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in
order, dressed herself prettily, and put the children to bed early,
that nothing should interfere with her experiment. But unfortunately
Demi’s most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed, and that
night he decided to go on a rampage. So poor Meg sang and rocked, told
stories and tried every sleep-prevoking wile she could devise, but all
in vain, the big eyes wouldn’t shut, and long after Daisy had gone to
byelow, like the chubby little bunch of good nature she was, naughty
Demi lay staring at the light, with the most discouragingly wide-awake
expression of countenance.
“Will Demi lie still like a good boy, while Mamma runs down and gives
poor Papa his tea?” asked Meg, as the hall door softly closed, and the
well-known step went tip-toeing into the dining room.
“Me has tea!” said Demi, preparing to join in the revel.
“No, but I’ll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if you’ll go
bye-bye like Daisy. Will you, lovey?”
“Iss!” and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the
desired day.
Taking advantage of the propitious moment, Meg slipped away and ran
down to greet her husband with a smiling face and the little blue bow
in her hair which was his especial admiration. He saw it at once and
said with pleased surprise, “Why, little mother, how gay we are
tonight. Do you expect company?”
“Only you, dear.”
“Is it a birthday, anniversary, or anything?”
“No, I’m tired of being dowdy, so I dressed up as a change. You always
make yourself nice for table, no matter how tired you are, so why
shouldn’t I when I have the time?”
“I do it out of respect for you, my dear,” said old-fashioned John.
“Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke,” laughed Meg, looking young and pretty
again, as she nodded to him over the teapot.
“Well, it’s altogether delightful, and like old times. This tastes
right. I drink your health, dear.” and John sipped his tea with an air
of reposeful rapture, which was of very short duration however, for as
he put down his cup, the door handle rattled mysteriously, and a little
voice was heard, saying impatiently...
“Opy doy. Me’s tummin!”
“It’s that naughty boy. I told him to go to sleep alone, and here he
is, downstairs, getting his death a-cold pattering over that canvas,”
said Meg, answering the call.
“Mornin’ now,” announced Demi in joyful tone as he entered, with his
long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm and every curl bobbing
gayly as he pranced about the table, eyeing the ‘cakies’ with loving
glances.
“No, it isn’t morning yet. You must go to bed, and not trouble poor
Mamma. Then you can have the little cake with sugar on it.”
“Me loves Parpar,” said the artful one, preparing to climb the paternal
knee and revel in forbidden joys. But John shook his head, and said to
Meg...
“If you told him to stay up there, and go to sleep alone, make him do
it, or he will never learn to mind you.”
“Yes, of course. Come, Demi,” and Meg led her son away, feeling a
strong desire to spank the little marplot who hopped beside her,
laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as
soon as they reached the nursery.
Nor was he disappointed, for that shortsighted woman actually gave him
a lump of sugar, tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more
promenades till morning.