Sowing Seeds in Danny | Page 2

comin' away, 'Ma, d'ye think she'll give ye pie
for your dinner? Thry and remimber the taste of it, won't ye ma, and tell

us when ye come home,' sez he."
"Oh, the sweet prattle of childhood," said Mrs. Francis, clasping her
shapely white hands. "How very interesting it must be to watch their
young minds unfolding as the flower! Is it nine little ones you have,
Mrs. Watson?"
"Yes, nine it is, ma'am. God save us. Teddy will be fourteen on St.
Patrick's Day, and all the rest are younger."
"It is a great responsibility to be a mother, and yet how few there be
that think of it," added Mrs. Francis, dreamily.
"Thrue for ye ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in. "There's my own man,
John Watson. That man knows no more of what it manes than you do
yerself that hasn't one at all at all, the Lord be praised; and him the
father of nine."
"I have just been reading a great book by Dr. Ernestus Parker, on
'Motherhood.' It would be a great benefit to both you and your
husband."
"Och, ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in, hastily, "John is no hand for
books and has always had his suspicions o' them since his own mother's
great-uncle William Mulcahey got himself transported durin' life or
good behaviour for havin' one found on him no bigger'n an almanac, at
the time of the riots in Ireland. No, ma'am, John wouldn't rade it at all
at all, and he don't know one letther from another, what's more."
"Then if you would read it and explain it to him, it would be so helpful
to you both, and so inspiring. It deals so ably with the problems of
child-training. You must be puzzled many times in the training of so
many little minds, and Dr. Parker really does throw wonderful light on
all the problems that confront mothers. And I am sure the mother of
nine must have a great many perplexities."
Yes, Mrs. Watson had a great many perplexities--how to make trousers
for four boys out of the one old pair the minister's wife had given her;

how to make the memory of the rice-pudding they had on Sunday last
all the week; how to work all day and sew at night, and still be brave
and patient; how to make little Danny and Bugsey forget they were
cold and hungry. Yes, Mrs. Watson had her problems; but they were
not the kind that Dr. Ernestus Parker had dealt with in his book on
"Motherhood."
"But I must not keep you, Mrs. Watson," Mrs. Francis said, as she
remembered the washing. "When you go downstairs will you kindly
bring me up a small red notebook that you will find on the desk in the
library?"
"Yes ma'am," said Mrs. Watson, and went heavily down the stairs. She
found the book and brought it up.
While she was making the second laborious journey down the softly
padded stairs, Mrs. Francis was making an entry in the little red book.
Dec. 7, 1903. Talked with one woman to-day RE Beauty of
Motherhood. Recommended Dr. Parker's book. Believe good done.
Then she closed the book with a satisfied feeling. She was going to
have a very full report for her department at the next Annual
Convention of the Society for Propagation of Lofty Ideals.
In another part of the same Manitoba town lived John Watson,
unregenerate hater of books, his wife and their family of nine. Their
first dwelling when they had come to Manitoba from the Ottawa Valley,
thirteen years ago, had been C. P. R. box-car No. 722, but this had soon
to be enlarged, which was done by adding to it other car-roofed
shanties. One of these was painted a bright yellow and was a little
larger than the others. It had been the caboose of a threshing outfit that
John had worked for in '96. John was the fireman and when the boiler
blew up and John was carried home insensible the "boys" felt that they
should do something for the widow and orphans. They raised one
hundred and sixty dollars forthwith, every man contributing his wages
for the last four days. The owner of the outfit, Sam Motherwell, in a
strange fit of generosity, donated the caboose.

The next fall Sam found that he needed the caboose himself, and came
with his trucks to take it back. He claimed that he had given it with the
understanding that John was going to die. John had not fulfilled his
share of the contract, and Sam felt that his generosity had been
misplaced.
John was cutting wood beside his dwelling when Sam arrived with his
trucks, and accused him of obtaining goods under false pretences. John
was a man of few words