Driven Back to Eden

live in the suburb. The rent was moderate for New York, and left me some money, after food and clothing were provided, for occasional little outings and pleasures, which I believe to be needed by both body and mind. While the children were little⁠—so long as they would “stay put” in the cradle or on the floor⁠—we did not have much trouble. Fortunately I had good health, and, as my wife said, was “handy with children.” Therefore I could help her in the care of them at night, and she had kept much of her youthful bloom. Heaven had blessed us. We had met with no serious misfortunes, nor had any of our number been often prostrated by prolonged and dangerous illness. But during the last year my wife had been growing thin, and occasionally her voice had a sharpness which was new. Every month Bobsey became more hard to manage. Our living room was to him like a cage to a wild bird, and slip away he would, to his mother’s alarm; for he was almost certain to get into mischief or trouble. The effort to perform her household tasks and watch over him was more wearing than it had been to rock him through long hours at night when he was a teething baby. These details seem very homely no doubt, yet such as these largely make up our lives. Comfort or discomfort, happiness or unhappiness, springs from them. There is no crop in the country so important as that of boys and girls. How could I manage my little home garden in a flat?

I looked thoughtfully from one to another, as with children’s appetites they became absorbed in one of the chief events of the day.

“Well,” said my wife, querulously, “how are you getting on with your problem?”

“Take this extra bit of steak and I’ll tell you after the children are asleep,” I said.

“I can’t eat another mouthful,” she exclaimed, pushing back her almost untasted supper. “Broiling the steak was enough for me.”

“You are quite tired out, dear,” I said, very gently.

Her face softened immediately at my tone and tears came into her eyes.

“I don’t know what is the matter with me,” she faltered. “I am so nervous some days that I feel as if I should fly to pieces. I do try to be patient, but I know I’m growing cross!”

“Oh now, mamma,” spoke up warmhearted Merton; “the idea of your being cross.”

“She is cross,” Bobsey cried; “she boxed my ears this very day.”

“And you deserved it,” was Merton’s retort. “It’s a pity they are not boxed oftener.”

“Yes, Robert, I did,” continued my wife, sorrowfully. “Bobsey ran away four times, and vexed me beyond endurance, that is, such endurance as I have left, which doesn’t seem to be very much.”

“I understand, dear,” I said. “You are a part of my problem, and you must help me solve it.” Then I changed the subject decidedly, and soon brought sunshine to our clouded household. Children’s minds are easily diverted; and my wife, whom a few sharp words would have greatly irritated, was soothed, and her curiosity awakened as to the subject of my thoughts.

II

I State the Case

I pondered deeply while my wife and Winnie cleared away the dishes and put Bobsey into his little crib. I felt that the time for a decided change had come, and that it should be made before the evils of our lot brought sharp and real trouble.

How should I care for my household? If I had been living on a far frontier among hostile Indians I should have known better how to protect them. I could build a house of heavy logs and keep my wife and children always near me while at work. But it seemed to me that Melissa Daggett and her kin with their flashy papers, and the influence of the street for Merton and Bobsey, involved more danger to my little band than all the scalping Modocs that ever whooped. The children could not step outside the door without danger of meeting someone who would do them harm. It is the curse of crowded city life that there is so little of a natural and attractive sort for a child to do, and so much of evil close at hand.

My wife asked me humorously for the news. She saw that I was not reading my paper, and my frowning brow and firm lips proved my problem was not of a trifling nature. She suspected nothing more, however, than that I was thinking of taking rooms in some better locality, and she was wondering how I could do it, for she knew that my income now left but a small surplus above expenses.

At last Winnie too was ready to go to bed, and I said to her, gravely: “Here is money to pay Melissa for that paper. It was only fit for the gutter, and into the gutter I put it. I wish you to promise me never to look at such pictures again, or you can never hope to grow up to be a lady like mamma.”

The child flushed deeply, and went tearful and penitent to bed. Mousie also retired with a wistful look upon her face, for she saw that something of grave importance occupied my mind.

No matter how tired my wife might be, she was never satisfied to sit down until the room had been put in order, a green cloth spread upon the supper table and the student lamp placed in its centre.

Merton brought his schoolbooks, and my wife took up her mending, and we three sat down within the circle of light.

“Don’t do any more work tonight,” I said, looking into my wife’s face, and noting for a few moments that it was losing its rounded lines.

Her hands dropped wearily into her lap, and she began gratefully: “I’m glad you speak so kindly tonight, Robert, for I am so nervous and out of sorts that I couldn’t