“I’ll read the paper first, and then, after Merton has learned his lessons, I will tell you my thoughts—my purpose, I may almost say. Merton shall know about it soon, for he is becoming old enough to understand the ‘why’ of things. I hope, my boy, that your teacher lays a good deal of stress on the why in all your studies.”
“Oh, yes, after a fashion.”
“Well, so far as I am your teacher, Merton, I wish you always to think why you should do a thing or why you shouldn’t, and to try not to be satisfied with any reason but a good one.”
Then I gleaned from the paper such items as I thought would interest my wife. At last we were alone, with no sound in the room but the low roar of the city, a roar so deep as to make one think that the tides of life were breaking waves.
I was doing some figuring in a notebook when my wife asked: “Robert, what is your problem tonight? And what part have I in it?”
“So important a part that I couldn’t solve it without you,” I replied, smiling at her.
“Oh, come now,” she said, laughing slightly for the first time in the evening; “you always begin to flatter a little when you want to carry a point.”
“Well, then, you are on your guard against my wiles. But believe me, Winifred, the problem on my mind is not like one of my ordinary brown studies; in those I often try to get back to the wherefore of things which people usually accept and don’t bother about. The question I am considering comes right home to us, and we must meet it. I have felt for some time that we could not put off action much longer, and tonight I am convinced of it.”
Then I told her how I had found three of the children engaged that evening, concluding: “The circumstances of their lot are more to blame than they themselves. And why should I find fault with you because you are nervous? You could no more help being nervous and a little impatient than you could prevent the heat of the lamp from burning you, should you place your finger over it. I know the cause of it all. As for Mousie, she is growing paler and thinner every day. You know what my income is; we could not change things much for the better by taking other rooms and moving to another part of the city, and we might find that we had changed for the worse. I propose that we go to the country and get our living out of the soil.”
“Why, Robert! what do you know about farming or gardening?”
“Not very much, but I am not yet too old to learn; and there would be something for the children to do at once, pure air for them to breathe, and space for them to grow healthfully in body, mind, and soul. You know I have but little money laid by, and am not one of those smart men who can push their way. I don’t know much besides bookkeeping, and my employers think I am not remarkably quick at that. I can’t seem to acquire the lightning speed with which things are done nowadays; and while I try to make up by long hours and honesty, I don’t believe I could ever earn much more than I am getting now, and you know it doesn’t leave much of a margin for sickness or misfortune of any kind. After all, what does my salary give us but food and clothing and shelter, such as it is, with a little to spare in some years? It sends a cold chill to my heart to think what should become of you and the children if I should be sick or anything should happen to me. Still, it is the present welfare of the children that weighs most on my mind, Winifred. They are no longer little things that you can keep in these rooms and watch over; there is danger for them just outside that door. It wouldn’t be so if beyond the door lay a garden and fields and woods. You, my overtaxed wife, wouldn’t worry about them the moment they were out of sight, and my work, instead of being away from them all day, could be with them. And all could do something, even down to pale Mousie and little Bobsey. Outdoor life and pure air, instead of that breathed over and over, would bring quiet to your nerves and the roses back to your cheeks. The children would grow sturdy and strong; much of their work would be like play to them; they wouldn’t be always in contact with other children that we know nothing about. I am aware that the country isn’t Eden, as we have imagined it—for I lived there as a boy—but it seems like Eden compared to this place and its surroundings; and I feel as if I were being driven back to it by circumstances I can’t control.”
III
New Prospects
There is no need of dwelling further on the reasons for or against the step we proposed. We thought a great deal and talked it over several times. Finally my wife agreed that the change would be wise and best for all. Then the children were taken into our confidence, and they became more delighted every day as the prospect grew clearer to them.
“We’ll all be good soon, won’t we?” said my youngest, who had a rather vivid
