Bear Lake, the Beautiful

Their Children's Children

By Annie D. Palmer

It was the fault of the doctor's wife —these years of estrangement that ought to have been friendship; it was her fault that caused much of the bitterness in the life of Mrs. Jackson, her fault that gave sadness of heart to her own loved son. And yet nobody would say that the doctor's wife was to blame. Let us begin at the beginning. There were so many children in the doctor's neighborhood; and partly because the doctor's little Ted and Elsie were attractive, and more because they had so many pretty things to play with, these many little folks were almost constantly assembled somewhere on the doctor's premises. Usually they were in the parlor, or on the flower beds, or in the cellar helping themselves to cookies or tarts. Otherwise they were on the front lawn, which was kept so constantly stepped down that it scarcely ever needed cutting. On this particular morning, in late Maytime, some of the larger ones of the group had invented a slide which was a great attraction out by the barn. The front of the chicken coop was about eight feet high. One of the boys had brought an old tent and nailed one side of it securely to this high side of the roof. By holding the other side of the canvas so that the center would not reach the ground they had a splendid slide from the top of the roof down. They had arranged some boxes on the lower side so that they could climb up easily, and they took turns at shooting and holding the "shoot." No wonder there was quiet about the lawn and garden. On the other side of the block, with their back yard on the other side of the chicken fence, lived the Jacksons. They were poor. At least they owned very little of what is legally termed taxable property. They did own the little shack in which they lived, and the plot of ground two and a half by nine rods on which it stood. That was their home. They owned it and did not owe for it. But Ben Jackson's wages for section work were small, and there were four little Jacksons to feed and clothe. Martha always insisted on naming these next to her husband when they "counted their blessings;" and when they were all well, Martha would never have it that they were really poor. The Jackson children had watched the fun across the chicken yard until it was irresistible. Then they had gone

766 IMPROVEMENT ERA

quietly out at the front gate, around to the other side of the block, in through the beaten way by Dr. Cram's, and were well on their way to the slide when Mrs. Cram saw them. Mrs. Jackson saw them at about the same time, and as it was their first venture in that direction, she waited to see how they would be received. Everyone who knew these little girls gave them credit for being exceptionally well behaved and kind to one another. To Martha Jackson they were almost the acme of perfection. She had let them put on their Sunday dresses this Monday morning, because the dresses would have to go in the wash on Wednesay; and they had their hair combed and tied with gay, blue ribbons to correspond with the Sunday clothes. To Martha they were a perfect picture of sweetness and innocence, as they faced her on their way up the doctor's roadway. But Mrs. Cram saw differently. Coming out on the screen porch to look for her children, she saw four new visitors to her already overvisited premises. The new ones walked abreast, timidly holding one another by the hand, and the little wobbly legs of the baby were not more wobbly than was every line of the funny little blouses ad skirts they wore. Even the attempt at Dutch-cut hair wobbled. Mrs. Cram's quick eye saw it all at a glance. Then she saw the slide, heard the children's eager call to the newcomers, saw them drop Ted down, saw Elsie scrambling up; and Mrs. Cram was not long on the way to the scene of action. "Ted, come here!" "Look, mamma, look!" shouted Baby Elsie as she scrambled over the edge of the roof in utter fearlessness. The mother shuddered at the danger, but the children lifted the canvas and Elsie laughed and scrambled out. "Come here!" Elsie and Ted never waited when their mother said it that way. They ran now and took her by the hands. Then she added "Now you must stay inside until this 'riffraff' has gone home." Martha Jackson called several of the larger children to the fence and spoke to them softly. "Let's take the slide down, boys, so nobody will get hurt!" "And so Ted can come out and play again!" "And Elsie, too!" So they called in happy chorus, and nobody was injured. The Jackson children went home immediately just as they had come, four abreast and holding hands. Did we say nobody was injured? Then we forgot the hurt of patient Martha Jackson and that was one that struck very deep indeed.