Mildred at Home: With Something About Her Relatives and Friends.

"Only for a while," he said, struggling for composure. "It is too dreadful to have you die so young."

"'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth,'" she repeated. "'My people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.' O Don, think of the golden streets of the New Jerusalem, the beautiful river of the water of life, the tree of life with its twelve manner of fruits, the white robes, the golden harps, the crowns of glory; and that there will be no more sickness, or sorrow, or pain; no more sin, no night, no need of a candle to light them, nor of the sun, or the moon, the glory of God and Christ lighting it always.

"Think of Jesus making me to lie down in green pastures and leading me beside still waters."

"You seem just as sure, Fan, as if you were already there," he said, in admiring wonder.

"Yes, Don, because the promise is sure – the promise of Jesus, 'I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.'"

Celestia Ann came in at that moment, carrying a china cup and plate on a small waiter covered with a snowy napkin.

"Here, I've fetched you a bit o' cream toast and a cup o' tea, Fan," she said. "I hope you kin eat it. But, dear me, you're lookin' all tuckered out. I'll bet Don's been a-makin' you talk a heap more'n was good fer ye. Now ye jest clear out, Don, and let's see if I can't be a better nurse."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," Don said gruffly, trying to hide the pain at his heart.

"No, and you haven't," said Fan, gazing lovingly after him as he turned to go; "if I've talked too much, it was my own doing."

Don hurrying down-stairs and into the parlor, which he expected to find empty, came suddenly into the midst of a little group – his father, mother, and Mildred – conversing together in subdued tones.

He was beating a hasty retreat, thinking he had intruded upon a private interview, when his father called him back.

"We have nothing to conceal from you, Don," he said, in tremulous tones, and the lad, catching sight of the faces of his mother and sister, perceived that they had both been weeping. "I suppose you know that – " Mr. Keith paused, unable to proceed.

"Is it about Fan?" Don asked huskily. "Yes, sir; she has just told me. But oh, I can't believe it! We must do something to save her!" he burst out, in a paroxysm of grief.

"What's the matter?" cried Annis, coming dancing into the room in her usual light-hearted fashion, but startled into soberness at sight of Don's emotion and the grief-stricken countenances of the others.

Her mother motioned her to her side, and putting an arm about her, kissed her tenderly, the tears streaming over her face. "Annis, dear," she said, in broken accents, "perhaps we ought not to grieve, Fan is so happy, but it makes our hearts sad to know that very soon we shall see her loved face no more upon earth."

"Mother!" cried Annis, hiding her face on her mother's breast and bursting into wild weeping, "O mother, mother, it can't be that she's going to die! She can never bear to go away from you!"

"Yes, dear, she can," was the weeping rejoinder. "She finds Jesus nearer and dearer than her mother, and how can I thank Him enough that it is so?"

"We have sent for Cyril," Mr. Keith said, addressing Don, and handing him a letter. "He hopes to be with us to-morrow. She could not go without seeing him once more."

A little later Don, left alone with Mildred, asked, "O Milly, is there no hope? no possibility of a favorable change?"

"None so far as man can see," she answered through her tears and sobs. "But with God all things are possible."

"I've been talking with her," he said presently, when he could control his emotion sufficiently to speak; "she told me herself that – that she was – going away. And she seemed so happy, so utterly without fear, that I could hardly believe it was our timid little Fan – always shrinking so from going among strangers."

"Yes," said Mildred, "what a triumph of faith! Her fearlessness is not from any lack of a deep sense of sin, but because she is trusting in the imputed righteousness of Christ. She trusts Him fully, and so her peace is like a river. It continually brings to my mind that sweet text in Isaiah, 'And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance forever.'"

And so it was to the very end; the sweet young Christian passed away so calmly and peacefully that her loved ones watching beside her bed scarce could tell the precise moment when her spirit took its flight.

There was no gloom in the death-bed scene, and there seemed little about the grave as they laid her body tenderly down there to rest till the resurrection morn, knowing that the spirit was even then rejoicing in the presence and love of her Redeemer.

Chapter Seventh

 
"Heaven, the perfection of all that can
Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,
Health, beauty: and all these not subject to
The waste of time, but in their height eternal."
 

– Shirley.

"We have no need to weep for her, my darling," Mr. Dinsmore said, softly stroking Elsie's hair as she lay sobbing in his arms, an open letter in her hand.

"No, papa, not for her, I know; but for the others. See, Annis's letter is all blistered with her tears, and she says it seems at times as if her heart would break. And Don; oh, she says Don is almost wild with grief; that he tells her he can hardly bear to be in the house, it is so lonely and desolate without Fan."

"Yes, I have no doubt they miss her sorely; yet time will assuage their grief; they will come to think less of their own loss and more of her blessedness."

Elsie lifted her face and wiped away her tears. "Is it not wonderful, papa," she said, "that Fan, always so timid and retiring, always clinging so to her mother and home, should be so willing and even glad to go?"

"Yes," he said; "it shows what the grace of God can do. She must have been given a very strong sense of her Saviour's love and presence with her as she passed through the valley of the shadow of death. It helps one to stronger faith in the precious promise, 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.'"

Rose, sitting by reading a letter with fast-falling tears, wiped them away at that, and looking up, said, "Let me read you some things that Mildred tells me about her last hours."

"We will be glad to hear them," Mr. Dinsmore answered, and she began:

"'It was the loveliest death-bed scene – no fear, no desire to stay. As I stood beside her, an hour or two before the messenger came, I leaned over her and repeated the words, "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms."

"'She looked up with the sweetest smile. "Yes," she said, "Jesus is with me, and I am not afraid; He will carry me safely through the river."

"'Mother added: "And to a beautiful home – one of the many mansions He has prepared for His people. You may be sure it is very lovely, very delightful with everything you can possibly desire; for the wealth of the universe is His; He has all power in heaven and in earth; and you, for whom He has been making it ready, are dearer far to His heart than to mine.

"'"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things that God hath prepared for them that love Him."

"'Her look was ecstatic as she listened. "Oh, how happy I shall be!" she exclaimed. "And it will seem only a very little while till you will all join me there."

"'She has brought heaven very near to us all,' Mildred added. 'It seems far more real to me than it ever did before. She has entered into the joy of the Lord, and we cannot mourn at all for her, though our hearts are sore with our own loss.

"'"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Does He not gather them home with joy and rejoicing to the mansions His love has made beautiful beyond compare for them? I think our little Fan was so dear to Him that He could no longer spare her to us, nor was willing to leave her any longer in this world of sin and suffering. That is our mother's feeling, father's too, I think; and no one could be more resigned, more perfectly submissive, than they are.'"

"Yes, Marcia is a devoted Christian," Mr. Dinsmore said; and, drawing Elsie into a closer embrace, "I feel deeply for her in this sore bereavement."

He was asking himself, as again and again he pressed his lips to his daughter's fair brow, how he could ever endure such a loss.

There had been a steady correspondence between Rose and Mildred, Annis and Elsie, ever since the winter spent at the Oaks by Dr. and Mrs. Landreth and Annis.

Housekeeping cares and discussions in regard to the best manner of rearing their little ones filled no small part of the letters of the two young mothers.

Elsie and Annis wrote of their studies, amusements, and the every-day occurrences in each family.

Thus Annis had learned about the life Elsie and her father led together while Rose was absent, of their journey to Philadelphia when he found himself able to go for his wife and little Horace, the visit there, and the return trip; and Elsie had been kept informed, among other events, of the progress of Fan's sickness; and the letter received to-day had given an account of her death and burial.

"Papa," Elsie asked, lifting her weeping eyes to his face, "what can I say to comfort poor dear Annis?"

"Just what I have been asking myself in regard to Marcia," he remarked, with a deep-drawn sigh.

"And I about Mildred," Rose said, echoing the sigh. "I know of scarcely anything more delicate and difficult than the writing of a letter of condolence."

"It is extremely so in a case where there is any doubt of the happiness of the departed," Mr. Dinsmore said; "but comparatively easy when we know that to the dear one gone to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. Also that the mourners are of those who have a good hope through grace that it shall be so with themselves."

"I shall look for Bible words," Elsie said, leaving her father's knee to get her own little copy, lying on a table near at hand.

"Bring it here, and let us look it over together," her father said; and obeying with alacrity, she again seated herself upon his knee.

Rose brought another Bible and a concordance, and joined them in their search for whatever the blessed Book could tell them of the employments and enjoyments of heaven. They found it spoken of as a rest, as the Father's house, a heavenly country, the kingdom of Christ and of God; that they who overcome and reach that glorious place shall eat of the hidden manna, shall walk with Christ in white; that He will wipe away all tears from their eyes; that He will feed them and lead them unto living fountains of waters; that He will dwell among them, and they shall serve Him day and night in His temple.

That "they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat;" that they have palms of victory, white robes, and crowns, and harps of gold; and that they stand before the throne and sing a new song, which no man can learn but those who are redeemed from the earth.

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."

"Papa," said Elsie, "Enna told me once she didn't want to go to heaven and stand and sing all the time; she would get tired of that. I feel as if I should never grow weary of singing God's praise. I love those words of one of our hymns:

 
"'When we've been there
Ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days
To sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.'
 

"But surely singing is not the only employment there; for here in the twenty-first chapter of Revelation it says, 'And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it.' Then in the third verse of the next chapter, 'The throne of God and the Lamb shall be in it; and His servants shall serve Him.' Don't you think that means that He will give us some work to do for Him?"

Her face was full of an eager joy.

"Yes," Mr. Dinsmore said, "I do. Just what it will be the Bible does not tell us, but to those who love the Master it must be a delight to do whatever He bids. The rest of heaven will not be that of inaction, but the far more enjoyable one of useful employment without any sense of weariness.

"Perhaps He may sometimes send His redeemed ones on errands of mercy or consolation to the inhabitants of this or some other world."

"How sweet that would be!" exclaimed Elsie, joyously. "Papa, if I should go first, what happiness it would be to come back sometimes and comfort you in your hours of sadness."

"I should rather have you here in the body," he said, tightening his clasp about her waist.

"God has not seen fit to gratify idle curiosity in regard to these matters," he resumed, "but He has told us enough to leave no room for doubt that heaven is an abode of transcendent bliss."

"Yes, papa, just to know that we will be forever with the Lord – near Him and like Him – is quite enough to make one long to be there. Dear, dear Fan! How blest she is! Who could wish her back again!"

"No one who loves her with an unselfish love. And now I think we may write our letters."

"No doubt they already know all that we can tell them, for they are students of the Word, every one," observed Rose. "Yet it does one good to have these precious truths repeated many times."

"Yes," said her husband, "we are so prone to forgetfulness and unbelief, and Satan is so constantly on the watch to snatch away the word out of our hearts and destroy our comfort, if he could do nothing more."

"Papa," said Elsie, "I sometimes feel so afraid of him; then I remember that Jesus is so much stronger, and I seem to run right into His arms, and am full of joy that there I am so safe. You know He says of His people, 'I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.'"

"No, not all the powers of hell can do it, for 'He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him.' He said, 'All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.' And 'I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'"

Chapter Eighth

"Farewell; God knows when we shall meet again."

Mildred was in her pretty sitting-room busily plying her needle, little Percy playing about the floor – rolling a ball hither and thither.

Both mother and child were neatly attired – the little one in spotless white, his golden curls hanging about his neck, and half-shading a round rosy face with big blue eyes; the mother in a dark cashmere, which fell in soft folds around her graceful figure, and was relieved at throat and wrists by dainty white ruffles of lace; her hair was becomingly arranged, and she had never presented a more attractive appearance, even in the days of her girlhood.

Mildred was not one of those who are less careful to please the husband than the lover; she studied Charlie's tastes and wishes even more carefully now than had been her wont before they were married. Perhaps in that lay the secret of his undiminished and lover-like devotion to her.

Both he and she had a great aversion to mourning, therefore were glad that Fan had particularly requested that none should be worn for her.

It was a little past their usual hour for tea, and the open dining-room door gave a glimpse of a table covered with snowy damask and glittering with polished silver, cut glass, and china; but Dr. Landreth was closeted with some one in his office on the other side of the hall, and his wife waited the departure of the patient a trifle anxiously, fearing that her carefully prepared viands would lose their finest flavor, if not be rendered quite tasteless by standing so long.

"Shall I make de waffles in de iron, ma'am?" asked Gretchen, coming to the door.

"No, not yet," said Mildred, "they would be cooked too soon; the doctor likes them best just as they are ready."

"De iron gets too hot," observed the girl.

"Yes, take it off, Gretchen. I can't tell just how soon the doctor will be in, so we will have to keep him waiting while we heat the iron."

The girl went back to her kitchen, and Percy, dropping his toys, came to his mother's side with a petition to be taken into her lap.

She laid aside her sewing, took him on her knee, and amused him with stories suited to his baby mind.

At length she heard the office door open, and a familiar voice saying, "Well, Charlie, I shall take the matter into consideration. Am much obliged for your advice, whether I follow it or not."

Mildred hastily set Percy down, and ran to the door.

"Rupert," she said, "won't you stay to tea?"

"Thank you, Milly, not to-night," he answered. "I have already declined a warm invitation from Charlie." And with a hasty "Good-by" he hurried away.

Mildred thought her husband's face unusually grave, even troubled, as he came into the sitting-room, and a sudden fear assailed her.

"Charlie," she cried, her cheek paling, "what – what was Rupert consulting you about?"

"Don't be alarmed, Milly, love," he answered, taking his boy upon one arm and putting the other about her waist.

"I have thought for some time that Rupert was growing thin and haggard," she said brokenly, tears filling her eyes, and – "O Charlie, I have often noticed, and heard it remarked, that one death in a family is apt to follow closely upon another."

She ended with a sob, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Don't ky, mamma," cooed little Percy, patting her cheek; "oo baby boy tiss oo, make oo all well."

She lifted her head, returned the caresses lavished upon her by both husband and child, then asked earnestly and half pleadingly, "Won't you tell me if – if Rupert is seriously ill?"

"He is broken down with overwork; has been devoting himself too closely to business, and needs an entire change for a time," replied her husband, speaking in a cheerful tone. "If he will take that at once and for a long enough time he may, I think, be restored to full health and vigor."

"Surely, surely he will do so without delay?"

"I can't say; he thinks it almost impossible to leave his business at present, and would rather try half-way measures first."

"He must be persuaded out of that, and I think can be," she said, her countenance brightening. "Now you must excuse me for a few minutes, my dear; Gretchen is improving, but I cannot yet trust her to bake your waffles quite to my mind."

"Let her try, Milly; how else is she ever to learn?"

"I shall after I have seen that the iron is properly heated and filled," she answered, as she hastened away to the kitchen.

Celestia Ann was at the front gate as Rupert neared it. She turned her head at the sound of his footsteps.

"So here you be at last!" she exclaimed; "and I was lookin' right in the wrong direction. Been up to the doctor's, I s'pose? Well, they're set down to the table without ye. We waited a spell, an' then I told your mother t'want no use, fer ye don't eat nothin' nohow, let me fix up the victuals good's I can."

"I am late, and am sorry if the meal has been kept waiting," Rupert answered, as he hurried past her into the house.

His mother gave him a kindly affectionate smile as he entered the dining-room, and stopped his apology half way.

"Never mind, my son, it is no matter, except that your meal will not, I fear, be quite so good and enjoyable, which is a pity, as your appetite is so poor of late."

There was some anxiety in her look and tone, also in the glance his father gave him as he seated himself at the table.

"I fear you are working too hard, Rupert," he said; "confining yourself too closely to business."

"Just what Charlie has been telling me," the young man responded with a half sigh; "but how is it to be helped?"

"By putting health before business," his mother said, with decision. "My dear boy, if you lose your health, what will become of your business?"

"True, mother," he sighed; "but I have not quite given up the hope that I may regain the one without relinquishing the other."

"A pound of prevention is worth an ounce of cure," remarked Aunt Wealthy absently, rather as if thinking aloud than addressing the company.

"What does Charlie advise?" asked Mrs. Keith.

"An entire change for some months or a year, including a journey to some distant point. Quite impracticable, is it not, father?" Rupert asked, turning to him.

"If you want my opinion," replied Mr. Keith, "I say nothing is impracticable which is necessary to the preservation of your life or even of your health. We cannot spare you, my son," he continued with emotion; "it is to you more than any of the others that your mother and I look as the prop and support of our old age."

"Thank you, father," Rupert said with feeling; "that pleasing task would, of course, naturally fall to me as the eldest son, though if I were taken away, my brothers, I am sure, would be no less glad to undertake it."

"No; it would be the greatest joy in life," said Don with warmth, glancing affectionately from one to the other of his parents. "I can answer for Cyril as well as myself."

"I haven't the least doubt of it, Don," replied his father, while the mother said, with glistening eyes, "We are rich in the affection of our children, both boys and girls," she added, with a loving look into Annis's blue eyes.

The eyes filled with tears. Annis was thinking how often she had heard Fan say that she was to be the one always to stay at home and take care of father and mother; dear Fan, who had now been nearly two months in heaven.

Oh, how they all missed her at every turn, though Annis strove earnestly to supply her place.

Leaving the table, they all repaired to the sitting-room; but Don, after lingering a moment, took up his cap, and moved toward the hall door.

"Don't forsake us, Don," said his mother, following his movements with a look of mingled love and sadness. It was no secret to her that the house seemed to him unbearably desolate, deprived of the loved presence of his favorite sister.

"Only for a few minutes, mother; I want a chat with Wallace, and this is about the best time to catch him at leisure."

"My poor boy!" sighed Mrs. Keith, as the door closed on him.

"Yes, he feels very sad and lonely," said Rupert. "But I am glad he has left us for a little while, for I want to have a talk with you and father about him; myself also," he added, with a faint smile. "Don't go, Aunt Wealthy," as Miss Stanhope rose as if to leave the room; "what I have to say need be no secret from you, and I think we will all be glad of your counsel in the matter."

She sat down again, and Annis asked, "May I stay too, Rupert?"

"Yes," he said, inviting her to a seat by his side.

He then proceeded to give an account of his interview with Dr. Landreth, stating that he strongly advised him to wind up his business, or make some sort of arrangement for leaving it for a year or more, and join a party preparing to go to California; the journey across the plains he thought would prove the very thing for him; nothing else so likely to restore his shattered health.

"And I have been thinking," added Rupert, "that it might be the very best thing for Don if you, father and mother, would consent to let him go with me, in case I follow Charlie's advice. He seems to me as ill mentally as I am physically, and we would be mutual helpers.

"I have no idea that we should make our fortunes at gold-digging, but I doubt if the boy will ever be content till he has tried his hand at it. But let his dreams be dispelled, and he will be ready to settle down at home."

"If he ever gets home again," remarked the father. "It may be that you are right though, Rupert, and your mother and I will take the matter into consideration."

"Yes, sir, in regard to us both, I hope; I want your advice as to my own course; it will go far to help me decide what I ought to do."

Both parents looked gratified, while Miss Stanhope remarked, "You are quite right in that, Rupert; you could not have wiser counsellors than they, and certainly none so deeply interested in your welfare; nor will you, or any one, ever lose by honoring parents."

"I am very fortunate in having parents worthy of all honor, Aunt Wealthy," he said, with an affectionate glance from one to the other. "Mother, dear, do not look so sad," perceiving that her eyes were full of tears; "I cannot think of going, if it is to be at the risk of breaking your heart."

"No, my heart will not break," she said in a determinately cheerful tone; "the promise is sure, 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.' And it will be better to part with you for a time than forever in this life," she added with a tremble in her voice. "Also I should be more willing to see two of my boys go together than any one of them alone."

"Then if I go, you will consent to Don's accompanying me?"

"Yes."

"And you, father?"

"I feel just as your mother does about it," was Mr. Keith's reply.

"But if Don should not wish to go?" suggested Miss Stanhope, in a tone of inquiry.

"Oh, no fear of that, auntie," laughed Annis; "he's been crazy to go ever since the first news of the gold, and you can't scare him out of it either; the more you talk of Indians, bears, and wolves, and all other dangers, the more he wants to try it. He says life in this little slow town is altogether too tame to suit a fellow of spirit."

"Better suited to the humdrum class represented by his father and older brother, I presume," said Rupert, with a good-humored smile.

As Don stepped in at Wallace Ormsby's gate, Zillah opened the front door, ran out, and hastily caught up little Stuart, who was digging in the sand, and carried him struggling and screaming into the house.

"It's too cold for you to be out; mamma can't let you; mamma told you not to go out," she was saying as Don followed her into the sitting-room.

"I will doe out! Ope de door!" screamed the child; "me wants pay in de sand."

"No, you can't go out any more to-night," replied the mother, giving him a hug and kiss. "Oh, he's mamma's darling! there never was such a boy in all the world! there never was! Mamma loves him ever so much."

Meanwhile the child was struggling with all his baby might to get away from her, kicking, striking, screaming at the top of his voice, "I will doe out! I will! I will! Shan't 'tay in de house!"

"Oh, now, be a dear good boy," entreated Zillah; "he's mamma's own pet, the dearest, sweetest boy in the world; mamma thinks there never was such a boy!"

"I should hope not, if that's the way he carries on," remarked Don, seating himself and regarding his nephew with a look of disgust and disapproval. "I think he's spoiling for a spanking, and if he were my child he'd get it."

Zillah flushed hotly. "Men and boys have no patience with children," she said. "There, Stuart, stop crying, and mamma will get you something good."

"No; ope door; me want doe out; me will doe out!" screamed the child.

"Oh, now, do be good; do stop crying, and mamma will get you some candy," said Zillah, in her most coaxing tones.

"Tanny, mamma?" asked the child, the screams suddenly ceasing, and smiles breaking through the tears.

"Yes," Zillah said, drying his eyes and kissing him fondly, then rising with him in her arms and going to a cupboard.

But the size of the piece she offered did not suit the ideas of the young tyrant; he refused to accept it, and bursting into screams again demanded a bigger one.

"Take this in one hand, and you shall have a bigger piece in the other," said the over-indulgent mamma, and peace being restored she sat down with him on her lap, and began talking with Don.

"Where's Wallace?" the latter presently inquired.

"He went down-town again after tea, but said he wouldn't be gone very long. Do you want to see him particularly?"

"I would like a talk with him," Don said, with a sigh. "I wish he would try to get father and mother to consent to my joining the party that are going to California."

"O Don, how can you suggest such a thing now when they are feeling so sad over poor Fan?" exclaimed Zillah, tears starting to her eyes.

"Don't think me hard-hearted or wanting in love for them," Don returned with feeling; "but the truth is I don't know how to endure life here now that Fan's gone. I miss her at every turn. I think it would be different in a new place where I had not been accustomed to her sweet society." His words were almost inaudible from emotion as he concluded.

"I know," Zillah said in trembling tones; "we all miss her sadly, but I suppose it must be harder, perhaps, for you than any of the rest. Still you will soon grow in a measure used to it, no doubt. I have always heard that time assuages the bitterness of grief."

"I can't believe it, I don't believe it!" he cried impatiently; "at least I am sure it will not be so in my case for years, unless I can get away into new scenes that will help me to forgetfulness."

At that instant Stuart, who had got down from his mother's lap to play about the room, tripped and fell to the floor, striking his head against a chair.

He set up a loud scream, and Zillah ran to the rescue, picking him up with a cry of "Oh, poor darling, mamma is so sorry! oh, it is just dreadful how many falls he gets! But there, never mind; it was a naughty chair that hurt my baby so. We'll give it a good whipping," striking it with her hand several times as she spoke.

Stuart ceased screaming to pound the chair energetically with his tiny doubled-up fist, then consented to be bribed into quiet with another piece of candy.

Zillah sat down again with him on her lap, and presently he dropped asleep there.

"He ought to be in bed," remarked Don.

"Yes; but he didn't want to go, and I do so hate to have a battle with him."

"I rather think it will have to come to that sooner or later," said Don, "and I should think the longer you put it off the harder it will be. I've been at Milly's a good deal the last few weeks, besides watching her when she was at home with us, and I think she could give you some valuable hints about managing a child."