Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature; Children's poetry; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature
ALL day long the Osborne home had been in a state of excitement. It
had been very difficult for the family to attend to its usual duties.
The little girls had at first declared that they could not go to
school at all; and then, being convinced that they must, it had been
nearly impossible to get them ready in time. Even the baby had caught
the unrest, and refused to take his long morning nap and give the
seventeen-year-old sister Mary a chance to attend to the work. The
explanation was that mother was coming home. She had been away a whole
month, an unheard-of thing in the history of the family before this
season.
The fact is, Mrs. Osborne was one of those mothers who would never
have been persuaded to leave her home and her children had it not
become a serious duty to do so. She had been in poor health for several
months, and grandmamma had written and coaxed and urged, and at last
almost commanded that she should come back to the old home and the old
physician, and see if he could not help her. One terrible thing about
it was, that this same physician refused to allow her to bring her baby
along. “I know just how it will be,” he said, shaking his gray head
and looking wise. “The baby is a strong, healthy little fellow, and
a perfect tyrant as they all are, and he will be carried, and put to
sleep, and fed, and petted by his mother and nobody else; he will be
more positive about it than usual, being among strangers, and he will
just keep her worn out. There is no use in talking, Mrs. Fuller, I know
your daughter Mary of old, and I will not consent to try to help her
unless she will leave that fellow at home and come away from all care
for a month.”
Well, the doctor had had his way, as he nearly always did, and Mrs.
Osborne, having declared that it would be utterly impossible to go away
from home and leave Baby and the little girls, and only Mary to look
after them all, had been gotten ready and carried to the cars. And a
whole month had passed, and she, wonderfully improved, was coming home
to-day. Father had driven to the depot three miles away to meet her,
and the house was in commotion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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