"Maybe not, but he isn't one that never goes there. Mind you don't give him a push down hill with your own hand, Mrs. Humphrey. A man won't commonly stand more than a certain amount and degree of uncomfortableness. I can tell you I didn't like the look in his face to-day, as I saw him coming away from your door." Janet felt uneasy. "I'll try—I will really try," she said. "I shouldn't like that. He's so steady mostly, I didn't somehow think there was danger he'd ever turn to being anything else." "The more steady he is, the more shame he shouldn't have a cosy house to sit quiet in," said Mrs. Simmons. "I'll try," repeated Janet. "I'll do things different. And you'll come in sometimes, and tell me how, won't you?" "I'm glad enough to help anyone I can," said Betsy Simmons. "But it's other help than mine you'll need to keep straight. Now, if I was you, Mrs. Humphrey, I'd see to having everything nice, and the children off to bed early, before he comes back again. Don't let him find you in a mess a second time." "But Tommy don't like being sent to bed early." "And if he don't, what then?" "Why, he'll scream," said Janet. "That's soon settled," said Mrs. Simmons. "Tuck him up, and he'll soon scream himself out. All the more need to have it over while your husband's away. And if I was you, Mrs. Humphrey, I'd put the little ones to sleep every evening before he comes back from work, until they've learnt to go off quiet without any screaming. It'll be the best lesson they ever had yet." "But they won't—" began Janet. "Talk of 'won't' about a parcel of babies!" said Mrs. Simmons. "I'll tell you what,—I never yet saw the child, big or little, who couldn't be mastered, if one knew how to do it. You needn't think it's a matter of scolding and storming. The gentler you speak the better, so as only you make a child understand that you mean what you say. But if your children's 'won't' is stronger than your 'must,'—why, all I can say is, you're scarce fit to be a mother. You'd best send them away, and pay somebody else to do the bringing up for you." "I never could bear to see a child unhappy," said Janet. "Yes, yes. I know the feeling. It sounds a deal kinder than it really is. So you don't mind bearing to see your husband unhappy, and you let them do just whatever they like, never thinking of the misery they'll be in after life to themselves and others,—and thinking least of all of the Life that's to come, and whether your children are to be happy then or not. That isn't tender-heartedness. It's downright cruelty." "I hope it'll all come right with them," Janet said uneasily. "I hope so too, but I don't see as you've much reason to expect it. If you don't train them up now in the way they should go, it isn't very likely they'll take to walking in it by-and-by." Janet was not offended by Mrs. Simmons's plain speaking. She said again that she would "try;" and when Betsy Simmons was gone she returned indoors.