Paste Jewels | Page 7

among the insignificant, did
our hero find happiness unalloyed once more, for to the pride of being a
father was added the satisfaction of seeing Jane and Ellen acknowledge
a superior. Make no mistake, you who read. It was not to Thaddeus
junior that these gems bowed down. It was to the good woman who
came in to care for the little one and his mother that they humbled
themselves.

"She's great," said Thaddeus to himself, as he watched Jane bustling
about to obey the command of the temporary mistress of the situation
as she had never bustled before.
"She's a second Elizabeth," chuckled Thaddeus, as he listened to an
order passed down the dumb-waiter shaft from the stout empress of the
moment to the trembling queen of the kitchen.
"She's a little dictatorial," whispered Thaddeus to his newspaper, when
the monarch of all she surveyed gave him HIS orders. "But there are
times, even in a Republic like this, when a dictator is an advantage. I
hate to see a woman cry, but the way Jane wept at the routing Mrs.
Brown gave her this morning was a finer sight than Niagara."
But, alas! this happy state of affairs could not last forever. Thaddeus
was just beginning to get on easy terms with Mrs. Brown when she was
summoned elsewhere.
"Change of heir is necessary for one in her profession," sighed
Thaddeus; and then, when he thought of resuming the reins himself, he
sighed again, and wished that Mrs. Brown might have remained a
fixture in the household forever. "Still," he added, more to comfort
himself than because he had any decided convictions to express--"still,
a baby in the house will make a difference, and Ellen and Jane will
behave better now that Bessie's added responsibilities put them more
upon their honor."
For a time Thaddeus's prophecy was correct. Ellen and Jane did do
better for nearly two months, and then--but why repeat the old story?
Then they lapsed, that is all, and became more tyrannical than ever.
Bessie was so busy with little Ted that the household affairs outside of
the nursery came under their exclusive control. Thaddeus stood it--I
was going to say nobly, but I think it were better put ignobly--but he
had a good excuse for so doing.
"A baby is an awful care to its mother," he said; "a responsibility that
takes up her whole time and attention. I don't think I'd better complicate
matters by getting into a row with the servants."

And so it went. A year and another year passed. The pretty home was
beginning to look old. The bloom of its youth had most improperly
faded--for surely a home should never fade--but there was the boy, a
growing delight to his father, so why complain? Better this easy-going
life than one of domestic contention.
Then on a sudden the boy fell ill. The doctor came--shook his head
gravely.
"You must take him to the sea-shore," he said. "It is his only chance."
And to the sea-shore they went, leaving the house in charge of the
treasures.
"I have confidence in you," said Thaddeus to Jane and Ellen on the
morning of the departure, "so I have decided to leave the house open in
your care. Mrs. Perkins wants you to keep it as you would if she were
here. Whatever you need to make yourselves comfortable, you may get.
Good-bye."
"What a comfort it is," said Bessie, when they had reached the sea-
shore, and were indulging in their first bit of that woful luxury,
homesickness--"what a comfort it is to feel that the girls are there to
look after things! An empty house is such a temptation to thieves."
"Yes," said Thaddeus. "I hope they won't entertain too much, though."
"Ellen and Jane are too old for that sort of thing," Bessie answered.
"How about Norah?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. There was nothing really for Norah to do, so I
told her she could go off and stay with her mother on board-wages."
"Good!" said Thaddeus, with a pleased smile. "It isn't a bad idea to save,
particularly when you are staying at the sea-shore."
In this contented frame of mind they lived for several weeks. The boy
grew stronger every day, and finally Thaddeus felt that the child was

well enough to warrant his running back home for a night, "just to see
how things were going." That the girls were faithful, of course, he did
not doubt; the regularity with which letters addressed to him at
home--and they were numerous--reached him convinced him of that;
but the hamper containing the week's wash, which Ellen and Jane were
to send, and which had been expected on Thursday of the preceding
week, had failed for once to arrive; the boy