Father used to say he wanted me to be a civil engineer."
"If father was here," said eleven-year-old Nate, "you could study
evenings and recite to him. I wish mother could help; but, then I guess
mother's--"
"Help how?" she heard Jerry ask sharply, before Nate could finish his
sentence; and she knew the boy was jealous at once for her. "Isn't she
the best mother in the world?"
"Yes, she is; and she likes stories, too; but I was just thinking, now
that you can't go to school, if she only knew a lot about every thing,
why, she could tell you."
"Well," replied Jerry, with all the gravity of a man, "we must just take
hold and help all we can; it's going to be hard enough for mother. I
just hate to give up school and pitch into work. Thede, you shall go
next Winter, any way."
"Shan't we be lonesome next winter?" said little Johnnie, who had taken
no part in the talk; until now; "won't mother be afraid? I want my
father back," and, without a word of warning, he burst into tears.
Dead silence for a few minutes. The outburst was so sudden, she knew
they were all weeping. It was Jerry again who spoke first: "Don't let
mother see us crying. Come, Johnnie, let's take Bone, and all go down to
the trap;" then she heard them pass out of the house.
Desolation fell upon that poor mother for the next hour. Like a knife,
Nate's remark had passed through her heart, "Father could have helped!"
Couldn't she help her boys, for whom she was ready to die? Was she only
"mother," who prepared their meals and took care of their clothes? She
wanted a part in the very best of their lives.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286