The Right Knock

by Helen Van-Anderson

  CHAPTER V.

  Take up the threads of life at home, Let not the stitches drop; The busy world will know 'tis done Though ne'er it pause nor stop.

  "Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peacebut the triumph of principles."--_Emerson._

  A year passed away, and Mrs. Hayden grew no better. She was not ascheerful as she had been at first, and instead of growing into thebrave, patient woman she longed to become, she had grown fretful andirritable, and was in many ways different from the Mrs. Hayden Kate andGrace had talked about so enthusiastically. None knew better than she,how miserably she had failed to live the life that was soulsatisfying--the life that brought forth fruits. In all the years of herprosperity, in the midst of the gayeties and luxuries, she had secretlylonged for something she never found, and in one sense it had not beenhard for her to give up the life of ease and idleness, because she hadhoped to find in the new duties a new peace and satisfaction, had hopedto live up to her ideal of a noble woman, and it was with her wholeheart she had promised her husband her help and sympathy, but in all theeighteen months, she had been but a burden; even calm forbearance andcheerfulness had ceased to be virtues. The children, not having anursery, must needs be anywhere and everywhere, and in spite of herefforts to the contrary, their noise annoyed her.

  To-night she sat thinking it all over, in one of her most despondentmoods, for be it said to her credit, things did not always appear asgloomy as she represented them to herself.

  The ruddy firelight flickered over her in fitful gleams of light andshadow. The children were out romping in the twilight, enjoying thefirst snow of the season. Her husband had not yet returned from thestore.

  What was the use, anyway, pursued the relentless conscience--even thewish to be good was always choked by a complete forgetfulness; andbefore she could catch her breath the words were out, so, although shehad believed nearly all her life that one might grow into goodness, shewas quite rebellious to-night with the thought of its impossibility, andshe felt bitter, too, to think of the long years of uselessnessstretching out before her. Scarcely thirty-five and yet she felt like across, crabbed old woman, and shuddered to think of all the years tocome, if they were to be like the past, and there seemed no help for itunless she could conquer herself. The doctor had done what he could tocure her dyspepsia but she was a veritable slave to her capriciousstomach. She felt one of her oft-recurring sick headaches coming on andevery thought grew blacker and more disconsolate. Oh! she wished supperwere over and the children safe in bed, so she could be free from theirnoise, and here they come! she thought, as a great stamping and laughingwas heard in the hall.

  "Oh, mamma! such lovely snowflakes, just like a fairy's quilt, and theyhave been falling all over us till we're like people in frost land. Justlook, mamma!" cried Mabel, who liked a romp as well as the boys,although she was thirteen. Three-year-old Jamie and five-year-old Fredcame trooping in behind.

  "Well, mamma, God has turned on the snow faucets," announced Fred, withcharacteristic importance.

  "An' all 'e fevvers is tummin' down fum 'e 'ky," shouted Jamie at thetop of his voice.

  "And mamma, _can't_ we have a sled and go coasting this winter?" queriedMabel, not noticing in her eagerness that her mamma was very sick.

  "Oh, _don't_ make so much noise. Take them away and keep quiet, Mabel. Ican not endure so much confusion."

  They went out clanging the door behind them in spite of their efforts tokeep quiet, and as their voices grew fainter, she thought with anotherremorseful pang: "I have sent them away again. Why must I yield alwaysto self instead of overcoming?" Presently, however, all attempts atthinking were lost in the efforts to get the camphor, bathe her head andfind some comforting spot whereon to rest her aching temples.

  A subdued family gathered around the table that evening and everyonefelt the necessity of being quiet as possible. Even Fred and Jamieunderstood that they _must_ keep still, and managed to keep their voicesdown to something less than a shrill whisper.

  Mrs. Hayden partook only of a small cup of tea and was then assisted toher room, where she expected to remain for at least two days--the usualtime. Her husband spent the evening rubbing her head, bathing it withcamphor and keeping the house quiet as possible.

  The next day dawned cloudy and grey, with a faint mildness in the air,indicating a thaw. Mabel went to school, Fred and Jamie amusedthemselves in the back parlor until they were tired and then flattenedtheir noses against the window, trying to see how many drops of meltedsnow fell from the porch roof.

  "I want a snow man," wailed Jamie, suddenly remembering what papa saidabout the snow long ago.

  "Well, you can't have it," said Fred, with great decision, who generallyopposed anything on principle.

  "Yes, we can. We can go out and make one," persisted Jamie.

  "Jack Frost'll bite your fingers."

  "No he won't."

  "He will--"

  "He won't eever--"

  "He will, 'cos mamma said so," said naughty Fred.

  Jamie's little face clouded and the lip began to quiver; then a suddenthought striking him, he jumped up, beaming with delight, and cried, ashe ran towards the hall:

  "Mamma said Jack Frost couldn't find me when I had my overcoat and wedmittens on, and my wed cap."

  "You can't reach your coat an' you've lost your mittens," insisted Fred,with perseverance worthy a better cause.

  "O, yes I can. I can 'tep on my high chair," dragging it after him.

  "I can get my things on first," said Fred who suddenly decided in favorof the snow man, and hurriedly suiting the action to the word, rushed toget his coat which hung under Jamie's, just as Jamie reached his littlehands up to get his. Fred gave a tremendous flirt and pull at his coatwhich overbalanced his little brother and down came the high chair andJamie plump upon the luckless Fred, whose angry squeals and kicks,mingled with Jamie's loud shrieks of terror made a commotion thatbrought Anna, the housekeeper, to the rescue.

  "What _is_ the matter?" as she plucked Jamie from the general _debris_.

  "Fred pulled me down--"

  "Jamie jumped on me," said both at once as soon as they could get theirbreath.

  "An', I aint lost my wed mittens, an' my little white leg is broke off,"cried Jamie suddenly, spying the oft-mended leg of the high-chair, whichin this _melee_, had completely severed company with the rest of thechair, and now mutely appealed for help to be put on again.

  "There, there, papa can mend it all right again. Don't cry, little man.Now Fred, you must stop crying and play nice with Jamie and not quarrelso much. There! I hear mamma's bell; I must go see what she wants. Runaway and be quiet, for mamma can't stand a _bit_ of noise to-day," andAnna left them again to their own devices. Jamie carefully laid thelittle white leg away in his box of playthings, and then both childrenwent back to the window to watch the drops again.

  "I see one, two, three, seven, four, ten--" slowly counted Jamie as thecrystal drops fell.

  "Oh, I see a ice berg, an' I'm goin' to get it for candy," shouted Fredas he ran out on the porch and seized an icicle. It seemed so nice outthere that he stayed and called Jamie to come, too. They were delightedwith the new plaything and new sights, and any thought of being cold orneeding their coats never entered their minds, so the icicle, thebeautiful drops, and finally the snow claimed their attention until theywere at last happily engaged in the much-desired occupation of making asnow man.

  It was near noon and the sun had finally rifted the grayest clouds, andwas sending such warm smiles on the snow-laden earth that trees andfences, roofs and ridges burst into tears of joy. So, often does thesun-shiny smile melt the ice-bound prison of discontent ormisunderstanding.

  Fred and Jamie were in the midst of their interesting creation when Mr.Hayden came home to dinner.

  "Boys! boys!" he called from the gate as soon as he saw them. "You'llcatch your death of cold; run into the house, quick! Why haven't yousomething on your heads and rubbers on your fe
et?" and without waitingto hear their vociferous reply, he hurried them into the house.

  "Oh, but it was such fun, papa, an' we was goin' to put two coals in hishead, cos' his eyes was black, you know, an' your old mashed hat for hishead, an'--"

  "An' me foun' a 'tick for his arm," interrupted Jamie, who must be surepapa knew all about this wonderful man.

  "Yes, he looks very promising, and I guess I'll have to finish him foryou; but you must not go out again to-day. Just think what would we doif you should be sick while mamma must be in bed. Poor mamma, she wouldfeel bad and cry because she couldn't help you, and it would make herfeel very sorry indeed to know her little boys went out without somebodysaying they might."

  "Well, papa, we didn't mean to go 'thout our things on, but two of the_beautifullest_ icebergs hunged down an' we played they was candy an'all the pretty drops said stop, stop, stop, an'--"

  "Yes, an' the 'no was full of 'tars 'at shined right up at us an'laughed an' played hide an' seek wiv each other."

  "An' Jamie wanted to make a snow man," suddenly remembered Fred.

  "Cos papa did when he was a little boy, an' he telled me sometimes socould I--"

  "Oh, you little rogues, it is well you can trace it back," laughed papa,catching each small man, and placing upon his knees.

  "Why, look here, your shoes are all wet, and your fingers red, and yourclothes sprinkled with water. This will never do. Take off your shoes,Fred. Here, Anna," he called, as he heard her in the dining room,"bring some dry stockings and aprons. These boys have been out in thewet snow, and must be changed right away. Put a flannel round theirnecks, too. I'm afraid they'll have the croup to-night." With as muchhaste as possible, he stripped off their wet clothes, chafed their handsand feet, and with an anxious look left them, to go and speak to hiswife who, when suffering from headache could allow no one to enter theroom except her husband or Anna.

  That night the whole household were aroused by the hoarse andunmistakable cough of croup. Jamie had taken cold, as his father fearedhe would. The doctor was sent for in wild haste, and after several hoursof watchful care and frequent taking of hive syrup or ipecac, Jamie wasat last sleeping quietly, and every one felt that after this, at least,those children should be so well guarded that escape would beimpossible, and the dreaded enemy kept out. This was always a result ofexposure, and Mr. and Mrs. Hayden had often wished for the time whenJamie would outgrow the attacks as that really seemed the only thing inwhich lay any hope.