When She Was an Only Boy

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 22, 1 December 1906, Page 23

When She Was an Only Boy

By

MARION HILL

THE change had taken place, according to little Heater's acuta . remember.-ince, at a time of much trouble and many tears. 1

There had been some one called Brother. Theoretically, the brother had been ’ Hester’s; but in reality he had belonged, body and soul, to father. The two had been inseparable. Then Brother disappeared. No one had ever seen him again. Apparently, no one knew where he had gone to, either, for they all were most particular to tell Hester that he was not under the rnound where they put the Howers every

Sunday. To the strange loss, Hester had rapidly accustomed herself. So far, the history of her whole young life had been of beautiful things which came but for a short time and went forever. It is at Slice the charm and the' sadness of babyhood that all time is now—yesterday is but a blank forgetting, and to-morrow is non-existent, inconceivable; The sorrow that she' fett, and it was heavy, was not for the far-off loss cf a brother, but. for the ever-present loss of—a father. This silent, dreary man with the stern mouth, and the adv ing. disking -’dyes, was not the father that was rightly hers.- • He ••had beer but another boy; a big one, to' lw sure, but nothing but a fun-loving, noisy, laughing boy. for all his size. True, Hester had never been an active partiipant in the good times; for father had belonged to Brother as exclusively as Brother had belonged to father; no third person had ever come in between them:- but still the merry eomradship had been very pleasant to witness, even from the outside, and had. made life a continual holiday. Now—Hester shivered with speechless dread at a situation for which she had: no name. She had overheard some men say that her father would “lose his mind” if he could not get over his grief. She did not quite know what this new calamity was, but she felt confident it was something to be avoided if possible.

She intuitively divined, too, that-ccr-tain lonely walks he constantly too.c were none too beneficial for his moody state, and she had repeatedly offered her companionship, only to have it refused. One day she bethought herself of the brilliant expedient of following him without asking. z . ( Sb small was the village that following was no hard matter. .. All the lan s led into the main road, and the main road led past the graveyard. For she had known just where she would . find him. I-aggingly,-, her weary chubby legs tracked binijto the wound, where Brother—was not; ‘She came unheard, and stood afraid, not daring by speech to intrude upon the awful sorrow which stared from her-father’s- ashen faee.„ He was seated on the ground. From time to time he methodically arranged things, pulling a twig, here, or patting a. root there; then, all, r pf a sudden, he fell face downward on the mound, clutching at the grass jnd calling aloud, in a strangled way: “Oh, my boy, illy boy!” Instantly, - down beside him -plumped Hester, tugging at him with powerless baby hands? Her fact wals' White with fear. “Get up. I’ll be your boy,” she said breathlessly. ...... - *■’ At’her touch, he started and struggled to master himself. Monientari'y he gave way again and' put his head

down upon Hester’s tiny, round shoulder, gasping brokenly: "That’s right, you're my only boy now, baby. You're the old man’s only, only boy.”

"Yes,” said Hester. "Yes; I promise.” From a tiny pocket in her brief skirt she dragged a toy handkerchief and pressed it gently against his eyes. He kissed her hand as it passed his lips, but, nevertheless, pushed it wearily away from him. He was preparing to sink again into forgetfulness, when Hester said cleverly: "I’m tired. Carry me home.”

So he picked her up in his ernis and carried her. She had leisure to think over two things, and both of them were distressing: in the first place, her father was the Old Man; and, in the second place, she was an Only Boy. AH along she had keenly joyed in her father’s youth, and had felt desperately sorry for. little girls, who had fathers that looked like grandpas. And now —he himself had said it—he was the Old MaiL But the other was even worse—to lie an Only Boy. Hester was a woman from the top of her surly head to the tip of her slippered toes. Her treasures were flowers, kittens, dolls, baby cltickensT 4 and liny dishes; her kingdom was the home hearth. Would she have to repudiate a'l sweet, cuddling things and take up w'th such hard comforts as tops,_ marbles, and kites? Would she have to desert the peaceful safety of the house for the dog-ridden, bull-menaced, snake' infested dangers of the highway? Not that she wavered or regretted. Detestable as were the possibilities of her new condition, she was ready' for them. Anything, anything t> bring back the smile to the Old Man's eyes, the laughter to his lips! Surely, "he would begin to be happy aga’.n, now that he had an Only Boy. But as the days wore on Hester could sec no change in him. l es, one —he now suffered her companionship, lie paid scant attention to her, but at least he did not send her away. Tirelessly she trotted beside him riot resenting his silence and distraction, and ever casting him timorous glancjos.in the hope that she might in time discover upon his face the radiance that was its due. But it seemed to turn to stone. Evidently-she was. noi eoniing iq> to the requirements of an Only Boy. So she sought his assistance. ■■ “What do .boys-do tli.it-girls .don't ?” was the vague form of ah’ inquiry she pressed upon hint. “ >: . He to'ok the question to-be not personal but ethnological. "Throw stones, 1 guess,” he said casually. “Girls can’t throw.” Here was something definite, and Hester acted accordingly. Early and late she practised the art of throwing stones till she acquired proficiency. Then she began; to slook for results. But aim straight as she might, and hit as true,- the hopeless blankness never lifted from the Old Man’s adored young face. Then Hester looked at the situation despairingly but courageously, and admitted to herself tWat to make an acceptable Ohly Boy she would have to go to some frightful lengths. She would study the animal in his lair. With this purpose in view, -she one day forsook the rose hedged limits of her own lane and wandered down the Toad to the store. In its vicinity, as •he expetted, Ihft'c Were agreeable Jots

of boys. She mentally singled out a group of three who were playing marbles. For awhile she watched them thoughtfully from afar. Then she drew near and said briefly: “I’m going to play.” “Go on!” cried one of the lads, meaning exactly the opposite. lie never even looked up, ami the click of the marbles went steadily along. The Only Boy put her small foot determinedly upon a beautifully clustered bunch, thereby spoiling the whole scheme of things. This, at anyrale, gained her the dubious tribute ol attention. "You quit that!” yelled the boys, in unison. “I'm going to play,” repeated the Only Boy stoically. "Oh, chase yourself!” cried a lad; and, while not approving the sentiment, Hester was thankful for the -educational expression, which she gratefully appropriated. "Chase yourself yourself.” she remarked elinchingly, “I’m going to play.” One of the boys, without in the least intending to let fly. for chivalry forbade, here pictorially threatened her with a stone. • — It failed to intimidate. It merely furnished her with a new idea. Heliring to a projective distance, she picked up a rock and drove it unerringly into the threatener's hat, quite removing it. "Will you let me play?” she asked. Receiving no better permission than a glare of astonishment, she pelted another lad, landing him a stinging one on the knuckles. "Will you let me play ?” She hardly expected him to answer, his mouth was full of hand. There re mained but the third lad to convince, and the Only Boy chipped him in the ea r. “Will you let me play?” she persisted. With one accord, her wounded adversaries burst into tolerant laughter. “Gee! she can throw, anyhow,” said one. “Let the kid in for a game; it won’t hurt us none,” cried the second. “Here, sis, I’ll stake you,” cried the third, tossing her three crystals; "eome on in.” Wallowing bravely in the hated dust, the Only Boy received a good coaching in the mystery of the spheres. That she ended with a handful of earnings was. due less, it must be confessed, to her skill than to the intemperate courtesy of the American boy—when he feels inclined that way. Rocking her multicoloured prizes in her two begrimed palms. Hester wended her slow way home. She was anxious to get there, and yet she dreaded it, for she knew that her father would be re turned from his business and would be again at his fatal moping. Her wary knowledge of his habits made her search for him in the library. Yes, there he was in the old place — seated wistlessly beside the desk upon which was Brother’s picture, his idle hands tapping the cover of an unopened book, his strained eyes fixed on lonely vacancy. - Hester coughed raucously. Then he looked at her. She immediately flip|M-d some marbles iu his astonished direction, which he caught mechanically. “Here. Ohl Man. I’ll stake you,” said the Only Boy. She dropped to the

floor, assumed a business like attitude, and beckoned imperatively. “Come on in.” At last she was on the right track! Hinging back his head in the old, boyish way, her father suddenly laughed. It was joyous and irrepressible, even if it did last only next to no time. The sweet, rare sound tingled through Hester’s heart, making it beat with a frightened Hutter. But she sh owed no sentiment. She merely braced her pudgy thumb in the carpet, scrawled a circle with her lingers, and remarked: "Chase yourself, and knuckle down.” With a murmur of “poor lonely baby,” which to Hester Lore not at all upon the situation, the Old Man dropped to the floor ami “came on in,” To whom, in all the - world, dll “lonely” apply? How could anyone be lonely -when all outdoors was- abeekon with society--and-society of the right sort? Why. at that very moment, Hester herself was fairly aching to go out among her- daisy -children in—t-hc meadow lot - tong-stemmed, gid.Ty, bobbing creatures, always whispering ami giggling and nodding at. one another. They were very gossips of flowers, full to the brim with talcs; right good company, once one became accustomed to their rather commonplace limitations. Of a choic e sort were the quiet clovers. I hey had a most piquant reserve, and over them I'orf-tanlly -him mered a drov ■ of tiny white ami yellow butterflies —not t 1 -’ big. v. .eked-iooking kind, with bad anti prongs, like aerial grasshoppers, bet tiny, tiny, tiny butterflies, as innocent .as petals blown from a primros*. Ami all the' n|>plctr.es bad baby apples on them- And there was a ne-t in the lioa-y-m kle. Ami kittens in a barrel in the woodshed. Lonely! What business liad people to be lonely in such a te ining .world ■ Hester resolutely forced tlie-e w'aiting allurements out of her mind, and resignpd her elf to barr n marble-. Several times during the game did the l lid Man'- laugh ring out. and always at sofne uncouth utteram-o which Mester parroted from her vivid remembianec of I.er r cent companions down by liic. store. .she anxiously and thankfu’ly took silent note of each succe-s, and pledged hersell to garner a ehoie.- new slock of expletives. Truly, being an Only Boy meant plenty of hard work and no fun. A very tasteless occupation, for instance, this hanging about of marbles. She was glad when the game eame to its mysterious finish. “Who won, Old Man?’ she questioned dubiously. "Why, yon, to be sure,” he replied, gathering the marbles and stowing them variously away upon her per-on. “You ought to have trouser pockets. Where else is a fellow to put things?” “Ought I?” asked Hester, paling. “Indeed you ought.” “Have you lost, your mind, Old Man?” At this the Old Man quite gave one cf liis form r joyous whoops of amusement. But. Hester was anything but joking. To help preserve the Old Man's mind, sho had just tired her back, grimed her hands, ami scratched her knees, and she nadmally wanted to know whether, her suffering had availed much. "Have you?” slie insisted. “Why, no; 1 think not,” he replied, very seriously, in spite of a pleasant light which danced in his eyes. “Where is it ? ’ p. rsisted Hester. “Where is what?’ “Your mind.”

‘‘Bight in here,** he said, tapping his forehead. •’lnside your head!” “Yes.” I “Oh!” ■ Hester took comfort. A head seemed * safe place. She went thoughtfully away, looking back once to note gladly that the ■mile still lingered on his dear face, and (hat his glance had not drearily died, but Was brightly following her. The sight Of so much success made her heart surge victoriously, and gave hi courage for the imminent martyrdom of trousers. Determinedly, she trudged upstairs to Bar fate. Just once, in the serene and dimly frilled seclusion of her small room, her outraged womanliness bewailed itself in a burst of tears. Trousers! No more lacy pettienats; no more spreading, embroidered skirts; no more ruffled aprons with floating sashes and strings; just trousers. After her sacrificial tears had wept themselves dry, she went to her pweet-scented clothes-box, dug down to the banished articles at the very bottom, ■ nd dragged up a despised pair of overall'. forgotten of all but herself. Vividly she remembered the frightful occasion of their first app n arance. The grown-ups had presented the garment to her under the utterly misfit name of ’.rompers,” attempting to disguise the effrontery of it in that vague title, much as . <hey occasionally tried to drown out in B glass of soda water the vicious sickeningness of castor-oil —and with as conspicuous a lack of success. The rompers had taken the romp promptly out of Hester, sending her into such hysterics of Rebellion that the grown-ups had wisely dropped the subject. They recognised that her wee, incomprehensible but none the less charming modesty had been Bliocked by the things, and they all hastened to forget the whole bad business. No one but Hester knew what had become of the insults themselves. It was her tiny hand which had thrust the blueyean atrocities to the bottom of the telothes-box. It seemed an execrable Enough place, for, from much painful previous experience, Hester was of the

opinion that anything which got down there was as good as lost forever. However, here they were again, creased into extra hideousness. Heroic little soul that she was, Hester, nevertheless, was not brave enough to don them at once. She warded off doom for at least a night, and spent even the next bright forenoon in the daintiness of skirts and ribbons. But at the time of day when any hour might bring the Old Man l>aek from town, she set her teeth upon her trembling lips, hauled on the detestable trousers, and ruthlessly rammed and crammed all her cherished percale flounces into the horrible bagginess of them. With trembling fingers she trieed up the suspender part, jammed some marbles into the yawning, rough-edged pockets, and then raeed frantically out of the house, shrinking from the mirrors as if they had be n fire-breathing dragons Seeing the Old Man afar, and braeed to effort at sight of his laggard bearing, the Only Boy shook back the curls from her flaming checks, thrust her hands atop of the marbles, sprawled her feet as far apart as she could and keep upon them at all, kicked open the garden gate, and swaggered down the road to meet him. “Hello, Old Man! what’s the good news from town?” she called affably. His reply was the one for which she "had planned. As his face cleared and his surprised laugh rang out, Hester forgot the ignominy of her apparel and hung chummi.y to his hand, her whole small being happily elate at her success. “Just let's look at you; let's look at you!” lie said, tricked into new laughter as he noted the remarkable lumps and bumps caused by the hidden flounces. “You look so small. And your feet beneath your trousers peep out no bigger than peanuts. And what do you call this ?” “Hair,” said Hester unctuously, somewhat enjoying being a spectacle. ”1 never knew you had so much. You’re a French poodle, that’s what you are. There's no ‘Hester’ about you now. You’re Teter Poodle, I shall have to call you

Pete for short. Suppose we don't go into the house, Pete* Suppose we go for a walk?”

“AH right." said Hester, with just the proper nonchalance of a good comrade. Her heart gave one exultant . leap to think that she had lured him from the lonely library, but immediately sankwith its increasing load of private oppression. So lier pretty name was gone now. She could better have stood anything but Pete. There had been a red-haired groeery boy once who threw a turnip at her. His name had been Pete. She did not like violence, nor red hair, nor grocery boys, nor turnips; and the accumulation of these dislikes was all bound up in the already sufficiently abominable Pete. Of a verity, it was a little bundle of suffering that trotted uncomplainingly beside the Old Man on his nerve-calming walk. And, as the Eternal Feminine braces itself on sacrifice, Hester was charmingly companionable. She evinced polite interest in the utterly uninteresting rows of things which were sprouting in the vegetable garden, thoughtfully bending over—her hands on her trousered knees—to gaze long at humps in the earth, said to be beans; she shut her eyes and forced herself fiercely through a blackberry hedge in order to reach the river road—which when reached was sure to prove bullfroggy beyond endurance; she plunged pallidly but silently through a field of the snakiest kind of high grass; she even took into her trembling, revolting hand a cold and boring polliwog, which was offered as a treat; in a word, she accepted every horrible entertainment which the rude mind of man could conceive. But she earned her desired reward. “This has been a pretty good afternoon. hasn’t it, Pete?” asked the de.tr Old Man, as they came back through the garden gate. He was straight as a tree, and his hat was shoved rakishly askew. To Hester's critical eye he looked an encouraging object. “We’ll do this again!” “Bet we will.” said Hester heartily. Down, down, down went her inward spirits. Hard as it was to begin to be

an Only Boy, things looked as if th* leaving off would be harder still. Were the frogs and polliwogs and the haunts of snakes to be her fate again* They were. Not only the next afternoon. but succeeding afternoons—all afternoons. All her life. Wouldn’t it soon be Christmas? Yet those wretched beans were only an inch or two high. And it was pretty blazing hot for the Christmas season.' But, oh, how long it seemed since Hester had curled up on a pillow on the shady porch and dressed her dollies in the lace-trimmed copies of the finery which once had happily been her own. Still, there was compensation. The Old Man's mind apparently kept in his head. True, he had many gloomy lapses; but Hester had a thrifty accumulation of surprises upon which she drew in time of need. The river road was growing apt to lead to a pool where Brother had been taught to swim. And the Old Man took to gazing too long. Seeing this, Hester's eyes dilated with a touch of the old terror. But she knew what she should do. She yanked the Old Man’s coat. “If a feller'd give me a leg up. I mos’ b’lieve I could climb a tree,” she said wistfully. ‘■Why, I’m your ‘feller,’ Pete, if you want to try,** said the Old Man, pulling himself together. He looked around in vain for a trunk of good proportions. “But we can’t climb willows, can we?” “These aren’t the only trees in the world,” observed the Only Boy brazenly. “What’s the matter with the orchard ?’’ “Nothing at all. I hope. Let’s go there,” said the Old Man promptly. Then followed the hideous period of “shinning” up of trunks, all knubbly with bark, into perilous branches where there was nothing to see and much in the caterpillar line to fear. How much better things looked from a distance. The baby apples, for instance. They were fair-sized children by now, and seen from below had a commendably edible appearance. But glared at

dtszily from their own imeeure quarter*. they betrayed themselves to be given to the reprehensible habit of rotting where they hung and attracting wasps. Just like a wasp, to take to rot. What a nasty world this boy world was! But the orchard proved merrier than the swimming-pool, and the Old Man laughed again. Sometimes, the Only Boy had the ill luck to precipitate trouble by a faulty mischance of her own. The "matter of the hair is a case in point. Swinging head downward from a limb, she one time had the leisure to study approvingly her own shadow as it swayed beneath her. Pleased, she turned rightaide up. dropped to her feet, thrust her hands in her trouser pockets, tilted her head engagingly, and said: ‘•l'm stuck on pants now; you couldn't tell me from a boy. could you?” She shook her tousled yellow mane from her face as she spoke.

“A boy with hair like that!” teased the Old Man. “I wouldn't own such a boy!”

No sooner had ho. said the words when he caught his breath shortly and turned abruptly away. If he felt that badly about her hair, why. it had to go. There was no help for it. In actual anguish, blind and dumb to the sights and sounds of the summer happiness around her, the Only Boy fought herself into resignation. To lose them! Those floating yellow curls, where the blue bow poised like a lazy butterfly in autumn corn! Even now. acknowledging that the deed was as good as done, how was she actually to accomplish it? She had not the skill, let alone the nerve, to guide the shears on their awful way. And the village barber had a greed for coin, of which the Only Boy had none. Well, she might wheedle it out of the Old Man. Desperately she chased in search of him. She found him in the barn. And he evidently was still annoyed about her hair, for he was fighting loudly with the hired man. The hired man asked something in an equally loud tone, and the Old Man said it was none of his damp business. Why damp? Looking cursorily around, the Only Boy thought everything seemed dry. as usual. But damp must have been the right word, for the hired man kept quiet. The Only Boy stored the word away for possible future use. she might need it herself. Personally, the quarrel proved a god-send, because the Old Man answered her timid request for twentyfive cents by handing it right ont. He didn’t even seem to know she was there, and, without turning his head, kindly held the money into space. The Only Boy captured it. and sped down the lane to the village. There is no need to dwell upon what happened there. The fcarljer and she will never forget. Nor did she speed on the homeward trip. Instead, she slunk miserably, and kept within the shade of the fencehedges. By so doing she protected herself from another chance sight of her shadow in the road. The first, had been enough. No longer did she silhouette like a chrysanthemum. She was. merely a radish—small end up. And her head felt very trivial and empty. But. arrived at the house, she gripped up- enough courage from the inside lining of her overall porkets to enable her to stare her father coolly in the face. ••I've lost my lid,” she remarked curtly. ‘’What do you think of it? - ’ ••Why, Pete,” he gasped, “your beautiful hair! Who did it?” ‘■Barber. That's what he's for.” ‘■Your mother never sent you!” “Never. You can’ bet on that." “It was your own doing?" “Sure.” The (fid Man’s eyes flashed with a danger light, and the Only Boy groped in her memory for a talisman. “What do you mean by doing swell a thing?” he demanded. Now was the time or never. “None of your damp business,” said the Only Boy affably. She was anxious. too. But the anxiety proved unnecessary, for the Old Man burst into hopeless laughter. Not but what he regretted it on the instant, and took the Only Boy gently to task for her morals and manners; still, the laugh had come. A scolding under such prelmiinary circumstances is rather a cheery affair. The wliole business was soon blown over. Yet it left its subtle influence. Did the Old Mau faintly guess at last at Hester's comedy of life? Who knows? Nothing wns ever said, but the resulting comradeship was nearer and dearer even than before.

There is no limit to the perfection it might have reached had not mother commenced inexorably to intrude. She certainly bothered the Old Man outrageously. Many a lovely ramble was brought to its untimely end by the Old Man looking at his watch and* saying: “Poor mother. I must go back and read to her, Pete.” “She’s reading herself,” Hester might announce in vain. “I know. But she's lonely, all by herself in her room.” “Why don’t she come with us if she wants us?” All the gloom would be back in the Old Man’s face, and he woidd answer sadly: “She is not well. Pete.” “What’s the matter with her?” once asked Hester, and somewhat callously. She, for one, felt that any woman who could manage Lizzie, the’cook, and incidentally Hester, as firmly as mother did, could be in no imminent bodily danger. “Mother’s far from strong.” said the Old Man, frowning with worry. Denial in large quantity loomed on Hester’s face. ‘•‘Far from strong!'” she scoffed. '’Wish you’d felt the spank she gave me today. You’d know better, then.” Though the Old Man threw her the tribute of a sympathetic smile, he rubbed his fingers through his hair till it stood up like a bunch of grass, and kept on frowning. Discouraged, Hester inclined to the 1.-elief that the world was a hard master. No sooner had she rescued the Old Man from one mysterious misery than he fell into another—thereby indefinitely lengthening her hated period of boydom. For, of course, to keep the small amount of family joy circulating properly, she would have to remain for the nonce in pants and be boisterous to suit. “Cut me a switch. Old Man,” she said resignedly. Receiving it. she strode ahead of him, her legs manfully apart, and whistled desperately while she switched with hypocritical viciousness at the asters as she passed. Not for worlds would she intentionally have harmed one gracious, nodding head. It was through sheer inadvertence and miscalculation of distance that she caused one royal bloom to shiver on its stalk and then fall fair face downward in the stifling dust. Hester’s cheek went white.

“Well, you’re a boy all rightj” cried the Old Man, with wonder infused in his admiration. So Hester stoically switched an onward way till a bend in the road shut the aster patch from sight. Then she pretended to see a lizard. “Guess I’ll go after that wriggler.’’ she announced. “You keep on. Old Man, and I’ll catch up.” Running back to the scene of her unfortunate cut, she knelt in the dust, picked up the severed flower, rocked it pityingly in her arms, and laid her tender lips upon it. “Oh, my child, my child —my little killed baby,” she whis[>ered. while the quick tears dropped. “I never meant to do it: never, never. Oh. my pansycoloured daisy; oh. my aster child, that I made to die!” Kissing it chokingly, she laid it in a crotch of the plant where it laflonged. and twisted in beside it one of its living sisters to be a comfort and companion. Then she rubbed her tears away and hurried baek to the Old Man. "Did you get it?” he asked. “Get what?” demanded Hester, startled. "Your lizard.” “Nope,” said the Only Bov lySince the open held such perils. Hester was not quite sorry when the coming of cold weather shortened the walks abroad, and kept them more in the house. But it was a dreary winter—the Old Man needed such a lot of boy to keep him decently cheerful. Hester climbed so many chairs, and sat so much astride the sofa back, and slid so horribly often down the banisters, that the overalls wore out, and new ones were purchased — tougher ones to suit her fancied need. Her poor, torn, tired spirit fairly bled at sight of them, but she plunged within them, and whistled hard to keep the tears back. One can’t cry and whistle, too. It was firmly her impression by now that she would never be a girl again. The dollies were in the attic—a veritable north pole in winter, so that she never even visited them. The kittens had

grown, unpetted to cats, and nad been distributed among good Chistian homes. Thera came an eternity of skating and sledging, cold and sniflty joys at best. Then the miracle of leaves came round again, and overnight the violets purpled suddenly in the grass. One might almost be happy again—if one could be a girlone’s hair was getting fuzzy. too. and had to be persistently wetted to preserve the meagre appearance proper to a boy. Rumple it, and it would curl deliciously—could one be a girl. Which, of course, one couldn’t. For the time of polliwogs and kindred abominations would soon be round. Hester took if philosophically when her father again appeared before her in a straw hat. “Why, sure. Old Man: tramps, isn’t it? I’m ready.” “Not this time, Pete. I have to take a trip for, the firm. I'll be gone all night. But I'll be baek to-morrow. You won’t let mother get sick while I'm gone, will you?” “I don’t think I could stop her if she starts, but I’ll try.” said Hester, dubiously. “That's right. Be mother’s little man while’ father’s gone. Good-bye.” “Good-bye.” Hester apathetically accepted manhood. Father’s Only Boy and mother's Little Man. It was a frightful set out. With the Old Man absent, Hester spent the loneliest of afternoons. Nobody gave her any attention. Mother got it all. Night came uneventfully, and everybody went to sleep. The commotion did not. happen till next day. but there was plenty of it when it came. Mixed up with it were doctors and nurses and hot water ami medicine. Mother had done just what she had been requested not to do. After hours of aimlessness, when quiet had somewhat been restored, folks tardily remembered Hester’s existence. Lizzie, the cook, came to her. Lizzie was all broad smile and excitement. Kneeling on the floor, she hissingly whispered into Hester’s ticklish ear a tidings of apparent mightiness. “Is that so?” observed Hester politely, striving to cloak her indifference, and rubbing her ear. But, as she dwelt upon it. the situation held out certain grand possibilities. So she pushed inquiry:

“Is he going to stay?” “May the howly saints grant ut! Av coorse he's go’n’ to stay.” “Oh!” said Hester. Again she ruminated. Then pointedly: ‘‘Lizzie, is he the Oftl Man's?” “Will you list' to thot now! The child it is! Av coorse he’s the Child Man's.” “Oh!” said Hester again. “An' don’t ye want to room up stair wit’ Lizzie, dartin', an' see?” “No.” said Hester, decidedly. "I’m going to lie busy.” And busy she certainly became. The details of her activity would take too long to specify. Briefly, she put her overalls in the kitchen fire —the room was desirably empty at the time—she dumped tops, whips, balls, marbles, and kites in the wood-box; she rumpled her hair to curls and crowned them with the bluest and biggest of bows; she went the reckless length of her Sunday dress to make a proper toilet: she gathered her dolls and dishes and toy table and rocking-chair into one glorious bunch, and. sitting down with her favourite child in her arms, she revelled in recovered girlhood, singing a soft lullaby so devotionally that its melody rose like a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. A shadow thrown across her small teatable caused her to look up. There stood her young father, evidently just returned from his brief trip, his suit-ease in his hand, his hat shoved baek from his rather tired face, and on his lips the •smile that Hester knew to he the fruit of her past industry. “Hello. Pete!” he said. “How are you?” “I’m Hester, and I’m pretty well. ’ “How's things?” “Pretty well.” “How’s mother?” “Pretty well.’ “Where is she?” “Up-stairs. I guess.” ‘•You're not very talkative. Anything wrong?” “Nothing. Only I'm so nice and busy. I’m having a party.” “So I see. And dolls, too! Well 1 declare!” Then in mock tragedy he cried: “Dear me. you're a little girl again! A little girl! Have I lost my boy?” At this bare possibility, unlikely though it was, Hester looked up startled. Then her good sense came to her rescue, and she said reassuringly:

“Why, he can't be lost yet. He's just come.” “Who has?” “Your boy. He‘» upstair*. With' mamma. They're both iu bed. So I-izzffl oays.” "What!” After the explosive word, Hester waf »t liberty to play party again, for ih* was alone. Quietly but with consuming swiftneag the Ohl Man was bounding up-stairg three steps at a time. And the hymnal lullaby sounded anew.