The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 30 September 1915, Page 61

The Family Circle

HER LABOR DAY. Up for the early breakfast. That the toilers may get away; Musn’t be late at the office, Tardiness does not pay. Then comes getting the children Ready for school, and so The days of a woman’s labor Endlessly come and go. House to tidy and straighten, Sewing to do for the girls; Little one coming all tousled For mother to put up her curls; Mending and sweeping and baking, Dinner at noon on time; Every way turning and twisting To keep things as sweet as a chime. Supper at six, what a hustle, Little ones weary and cross; Still to keep smiling and trusting, Still to be brave in her loss ; Singing and humming and smiling, To bed with a song and a kiss The days of a woman’s labor Are generally much like this. WHAT HAPPENED TO FANNY’S HOOD. ‘ here, mamma! my handkerchief is all hemmed. Did Ido it nicely V Dorothy danced across the room to where her mother sat mending a big basket of stockings and laid the much-soiled square of linen on top of the basket for inspection. Mamma smiled at the happy little face and pronounced the stitches very even. ‘ Now the story,’ reminded Dorothy, ‘ O, yes, I promised to tell you a story when the handkerchief was finished, didn’t IP ‘ A story about when you were a little girl seven years old,’ prompted Dorothy. Mamma, folded up. brother Arthur’s mended socks and threaded her needle for baby’s tiny blue-heeled ones before she began : ‘ Aunt Harriet great-aunt Harriet—was making me a warm hood of cream-white saxony yarn. Several of the girls had new saxony hoods, but none quite so pretty as mine was to be, I thought. Aunt Harriet loved to make fancy things and had put a great deal of soft, fluffy trimming on the hood, with tiny scallops about the edges. ‘ One night I rushed home from school and burst into the house, “O, Aunt Harry, will my hood be ready to wear to the sleighing party to-night?” I breathlessly inquired. ‘ For answer Aunt Harriet held up the beautiful, soft, woolly thing. “All done but the ribbon. What color are you going to have?” ■ • ‘ “Pink,” I answered promptly. “I think pink is the very prettiest color of all. Did you get my ribbon to-day, mother?” ‘ ‘‘l didn’t get time to go out to-day, Fanny,” replied mother, “but you may go down to the store after supper and select just what you want. Aunt Harriet will sew it on before the sleigh comes.” ‘ Two hours later I unrolled a small package under the light of the kerosene lamp. “There! isn’t that a pretty shade of pink?” I demanded. “He had blue and red and all colors, but I wouldn’t have anything but pink, and just-this shade of pink.” ‘ Well, I wore the hood to the party, and proud enough I was. After the ride we were to go to my cousin Clara Walker*s for games and taffy-pulling and I was to stay with Clara all night and go with her to school next day. There were some eight or ten girls in the party.

‘ We came flocking into Aunt Lucy’s house, laughing and chatting, and piled our wraps together on the bed in the spare bedroom. My precious hood met with some generous compliments and some envious glances. When the party broke up I was intent on a game of checkers with Uncle William and did not see them off except to call a general good-night to the boys and girls as they passed us in a jostling bunch on their way out. > Clara and I slept together in the kitchen chainber. The next morning when it came time to start for school, I went to the spare room for my wraps. There on the bed lay my flannel-lined coat, yarn mittens, and woollen scarf, but where was my pinkribboned hood, and where did that hood with ugly yellow ribbons come from ? ‘ “Someone has taken my lovely hood and left this homely thing in its place!” I declared angrily. “I’m almost sure it was May Simpson. I didn’t notice what she wore, but she’s just mean enough to change purposely.” Why, it’s just like yours, Fan, all but the ribbon! cried Clara, coming close to examine. “I didn’t know any of the girls had one like it,” ‘ But I flung the hood down, hotly persisting; “I s pose she thinks I 11 wear her ugly old thing to school and then she be ready to change back and say she’s played a great joke on me. But I sha’n’t wear the thing. I’ll leave it right where I found it and just wear my scarf over my head. What a horrid shade of yellow! I always hated it!” ‘ Aunt Lucy had gone into a neighbor’s and no one heard my spiteful words but Clara, who was too much perplexed over the matter to offer any suggestion; so we set out for school. ‘ But May Simpson did not come that day, and I forbade Clara’s mentioning my trouble to any other girl, for I knew I really had no good reason for suspecting May. Then, too, I thought that if any of the other girls were playing a trick on me I would not give them satisfaction by noticing it. ‘I was wretched all day, because I was angry, because I had spoken hastily and. hotly, because I was sorely perplexed over the mystery, and because I must wait so long before I could tell mother about it. ‘ But 4 o’clock came at last. I ran every step of the way home. I told my story so fast that my words tumbled over each, other and I choked over the tale. Before I had finished I was as angry as I had been in the beginning. I wound up by declaring that I positively knew that May Simpson had played the mean trick on me. ‘I remember how sternly mother made me take back my words and admit that I had not the slightest reason for suspecting poor May. Then she very quietly told me that Aunt Lucy had been at the house and brought my hood, saying that I had forgotten it. As mother spoke she opened the closet door and brought out the hood with ugly yellow ribbons. ‘“Why, mother! That isn’t my hood L Don’t you know it isn’t ?” I cried passionately and burst into tears. “There, Fanny, we’ll not talk about it now.”’ Mother’s voice was firm. “Come downstairs with me and bring the hood.” I meekly obeyed. “Lay it on the table in the sitting-room and lie down here on the couch and keep an eye on it. When it gets too dark to see it plainly, call me.” ‘ What in the world did mother mean ? Was there something mysterious about that hood ? I was almost afraid of it. ‘The short winter day was closing. It was already growing dark and soon I could scarce distinguish objects on the table. ‘“Mother!” I called. Immediately mother entered. * “Come here,” she said. I went and stood by the table while she lighted the hanging lamp above it. Then I blinked in astonishment. The ugly yellow ribbons were the beautiful shade of pink I had selected the evening before !

y Mother then explained that certain colors change according as they are seen in daylight or artificial light'. •' I was allowed to buy new ribbon for my hood—• this time a pink that was really pink—but from that hour, whenever I was inclined to be too sure about anything I could not certainly know, the least reminder of the hood with yellow ribbons would set me right. IMPROVING THE FAMILY TREE. ‘ Look at this, my dear,’ said Mr. Newrich to his wife, displaying a fine case of jewels. ‘ Oh, you have bought them for me, haven’t you?’ she exclaimed. ‘ How sweet of you!’ ‘ No, my love I have bought them for my grandmother.’ i Your grandmother?’ ‘ But she is a bedridden nonagenarian. She can’t appreciate them.’ ‘ True, dear. And she need never know anything about them.’ ‘ What in the world do you mean?’ ‘ Simply this, dear : It is always advisable to have some heirlooms In a family that makes any social pretensions. These jewels now belong to my grandmother. When our daughter Ethel comes out in a year or two she shall have them, and when it is understood that they were once the gems of her great-grand-mother just see the antiquity which our family will develop and all on account of my having a great head.’ And Mr. Newrich threw mental bouquets at himself with supreme lavishness. CORRECTING THE GUEST. A New Yorker who recently returned from a visit to Boston vouches for the truth of the following: One afternoon he found the six-year-old son of his host settled in front of the drawing-room fire with a sheet of paper before him and a pencil clasped in his chubby fist. Stealing a look over the boy’s shoulder, lie saw that the little fellow was making pictures. ‘ Well, Bobby,’ he asked genially, ‘ are you drawing an engine?’ Slowly the child looked up, and slowly he spoke; ‘ It would take a very strong boy to draw an engine but I am making a picture of a locomotive.’ A VOLUNTARY CONFESSION. The following story is told of a strong-minded woman, who appeared in the juvenile court in connection with a charge against her son: ‘ Did I understand you to say that this boy voluntarily confessed his share in the mischief done to the schoolhouse ?’ asked the magistrate, addressing the mother, who held a small, dirty, struggling boy by the hand. ‘ Yes, sir, he did,’ replied the mother, jerking her offspring into momentary inactivity. ‘ I had to persuade him a little, but he told me the whole thing voluntarily.’ ‘ How did you persuade him V asked the magistrate. ‘ Well, first I gave him a good whipping,’ said the determined-looking little woman, ‘ and then I put him to bed without any supper, and took his clothes away, and told him he’d stay in bed till he’d confessed what he’d done if ’twas the rest of his days; and I should whip him again in the morning. ‘ In less than an hour he told me the whole story, voluntarily.’ HIS REWARD. * I’ve been a good boy to-day, haven’t I, mamma?’ asked the pride of the household. ‘Yes, Richard. You’ve been a very good boy indeed. ‘ Aren’t you going to call papa up on the ’phone and tell him about it?’

Why, no; I hadn’t thought of it,’ replied his mother. Don’t you think it will be time enough totell him when he comes home?’ v - : Well, said the youngster, he might want 'to 1 *)" buy me some candy or something for being good, and I thought we might save him the trouble of going out for it after he gets home.’ JUST SO. How do you manage to get along since your husband lost all his money?’ inquired an old friend of a young lady whose marriage had, a few years before, been considered a r fortunate ’ one. ‘Oh! just sew, sew,’ replied the vicitm of adverse circumstances. A BUSINESS PROPOSITION. A countrywoman and her daughter went into a shop in town to buy a bonnet. • When she had purchased the bonnet the milliner, turning to the woman, said : ‘ What about a sailor* for your daughter?’ (meaning, of course, a hat). The woman, turning to the girl, indignantly retorted, ‘ What about a soldier for yourself ?’ THE HAMMER. A gunner of the Garrison Artillery, who had successfully passed an armourer’s course, was at home on furlough, wearing the usual decoration of the hammer and pincers on his right sleeve, when he was accosted by a civilian, who asked what the decoration signified. ‘ Oh, replied Tommy, humorously, ‘l’m a qualified army dentist.’ I see,’ said the civilian, ‘Of course, the pincers are for extracting the teeth; but what is the idea of the hammer?’ ‘ Well, you see,’ rejoined the soldier, ‘ some of the chaps are a bit nervous, and are afraid to take chloroform, so we have to resort to the hammer ’ THE LETTER ‘ E.’ Some one has advanced the opinion that the letter ‘e ’ is the most unfortunate character in the English alphabet, because it is always out of cash, forever in debt, never out of danger, and in Germany all the time. But we call his attention to the fact (says an exchange), that ‘ e ’ is never in war and always in peace. It is the beginning of existence, the commencement of ease and the end of trouble. Without it there would be no meat, no life, and no electricity. It is the centre of honesty, makes love perfect, and without it there would be no editors, devils, or news. A VERSATILE BOY. Senator Dick, of Ohio, not long ago secured for the young son of an old friend a position in a Cincinnati business house. A short while after the youth had entered on his new duties the Senator met the head of the firm. ‘ How is the boy getting on?’ he asked. ‘ He was discharged three days after he came, was the answer. The Senator was surprised. ‘Why,’ declared he, I’ve always understood that Tom was a most versatile young man.’ ‘Pie’s versatile, all right!’ responded the head of the firm ; ‘ there isn’t any kind of work he won’t * shirk!’ V