“When I’m a Man.”

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue XI, 14 March 1903, Page 761

“When I’m a Man.”

(By

Anne H. Woodruff.

“When k’m a man,” said Ted, whittling away at the wi'low twig that he was trj ■ ing to make into a whistle for Baby Muy, “I know what 1 will do. i’ll earn heaps and heaps of money for mamma, so that she won’t have to sew and sew all the time to make clothes for other people. That’s what I’m going to do.”

Bobbie listened with envious and ad miring awe at this confident statement of his elder brother, while Baby May watched with delighted interest the shaping of the coveted whistle. The long, drooping branches of the old willow-tree waved back and forth above them as they sat in the shade below. Snowball, the family cat, looked like a bunch of animated cotton wool on the bright green sod, her three kittens, as spotless as herself, scampering, tumbling and turning somersaults around her; which frolicsome behaviour Bruno, the collie dog viewed with dignified disapproval from his comfortable position beneath the privet hedge. “Boys, the wood-box is empty!” called their mother from the window where she sat at her sewing-machine, scarcely taking time to breathe the sweet, flowerscented air. “I think you must have forgotten all about it to-day.” Ted did not seem to hear this remark, for he kept on whittling; but Robbie started up at once, whistling cheerfully as his sturdy little figure passed back and forth from wood-pile to kitchen, his chubby arms as full as they could hold. When he was through with that job, he came back to the shady nook in the corner of the yard. Ted was saying: “Yes, sir! When I’m a man I’m going to build, a great big house for mamma, just like Mr. Brown’s; and I will buy her a silk dress like Mrs. Brown wears to church on Sundays; and I’m going to —” “Teddy, dear, don’t you know it is time for you to make the kitchen fire, so that I ean get supper pretty soon?” came the mother’s gentle voice from the window.

“Oh, bother the kitchen fire!” exclaimed Teddy, pettishly. “I can’t do it now, You do it, Bob. I want to finish this whistle for baby.” “Robbie is not used to making the fire,” objected his mother; “and, besides, you know, you have neglected to empty the ashes for two days past. The pan is running over. Robbie cannot manage it.” “Oh, yes I can,” answered Robbie, blithely. “I can take the fire-shovel and empty a little at a time into the coalscuttle, and not make much of a muss, either,” and away he ran to do it, with a face as bright as the day itself. “Put on the tea-kettle, Bob, while you are about it,” ordered Ted, whose duty it was to attend to these chores, but who was quite willing to do them by proxy — a proxy so conveniently handy and willing as Robbie. “And I’m going to have a carriage and a pair of jet-black horses and an automobile,” continued Ted, when his audience was once more settled before him, with attentive eyes and ears. “I guess mamma will like to go out riding with me when I’m a man, and can take care of her like papa did when he was alive. All she’ll have to do will be to sit in the parlour all day long. I wish I was a man now.”

“Someone will have to do an errand for me,” again came the mother’s voice, wafted to the children along with the fragrance of the blossoming syringas, roses and sweet peas that made their next-door neighbour’s dooryard a bower of loveliness and delight. “This dress must go to Mrs. Brown, and I want to send to the store; I must have some thread right away. Miss Day wants her dress to-morrow, and I’m in such a hurry I don’t know what I am about. Teddy, I think you had better go this time, dear. Robbie has done all the errands to-day.” But she spoke to ears that heard not— Teddy was already out of hearing. Warned by the first word of what he had to expect, he found it convenient to have other business in the back yard, which claimed his immediate and undivided attention. In this way he avoided a knowledge of the duty which lay nearest. If you do not know what is wanted, of course you cannot do it. Nobody can deny that. Robbie trotted off to Mrs. Brown’s with the big parcel, and afterwards to the store for the thread, rejoicing his mother’s heart by his cheerfulness and his loving, willing service.

Teddy cheated himself worst of all, for Robbie came home full of all he had seen at the village store —a man with a handorgan, a monkey and a dancing bear,

that were passing through the place. This was a blow’ to Ted, who felt deeply injured when Rob told him of the crowd of boys that followed the man clear out of town. He—Robbie—could not go because he had to bring the thread home to his mother. Ted forgot to finish the whistle that day, after all, thereby disappointing his sister not a little. “I dess Teddy will make it when he’s a man,” the little maiden confided to Robbie. "What you doin’ to do for mamma Robbie, when you’s a man?” "I don’t know’,” replied Robbie, thoughtfully, not quite so sure of himself as Ted; but brightening, “I guess I II do just whatever I can.”