Driven Back to Eden | Page 3

for his age, and upon his face
there was a pallor which I dislike to see in a boy. Long hours of
business would be very hard upon him, even if he could endure the
strain at all. The problem which had been pressing on me for
months--almost years--grew urgent.
With clouded brows we sat down to our modest little supper. Winifred,
my wife, was hot and flushed from too near acquaintance with the stove,
and wearied by a long day of toil in a room that would be the better for
a gale of wind. Bobsey, as we called my little namesake, was
absorbed--now that he was relieved from the fear of punishment--by
the wish to "punch" the boy who had tripped him up. Winnie was
watching me furtively, and wondering what had become of the paper,
and what I thought of it. Merton was somewhat sullen, and a little
ashamed of himself. I felt that my problem was to give these children
something to do that would not harm them, for do SOMETHING they
certainly would. They were rapidly attaining that age when the shelter
of a narrow city flat would not answer, when the influence of a
crowded house and of the street might be greater than any we could

bring to bear upon them.
I looked around upon the little group for whom I was responsible. My
will was still law to them. While my little wife had positive ways of her
own, she would agree to any decided course that I resolved upon. The
children were yet under entire control, so that I sat at the head of the
table, commander-in-chief of the little band. We called the narrow flat
we lived in "home." The idea! with the Daggetts above and the Ricketts
on the floor beneath. It was not a home, and was scarcely a fit
camping-ground for such a family squad as ours. Yet we had stayed on
for years in this long, narrow line of rooms, reaching from a crowded
street to a little back-yard full of noisy children by day, and noisier cats
by night. I had often thought of moving, but had failed to find a better
shelter that was within my very limited means. The neighborhood was
respectable, so far as a densely populated region can be. It was not very
distant from my place of business, and my work often kept me so late
at the office that we could not 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