The Iron Rule | Page 4

harder stroke was given. The father was resolved to conquer, and he did
conquer. A promise was extorted from the child's lips, while, his heart
yielded nothing.
"Very well, sir! See that you keep your word," said Mr. Howland, as he
released the writhing sufferer from his firm grasp. "If you disobey me
again in this thing, I will give five times as much."
And he turned from the chamber leaving the wronged and suffering
child alone.
"I've begun now, and I'll go through with it," muttered Mr. Howland, as
he reentered the room where his wife was sitting. "I never saw so
perverse and self-willed a child in my life. If he is not subdued now,
and forced to obey, his ultimate destruction is inevitable."
"His fault was not a very great one," Mrs. Howland ventured to
suggest.

"Do you call disobedience a little fault?" asked Mr. Howland, his brow
contracting as he spoke.
"I did not mean that," quickly answered Mrs. Howland. "I meant his
going in to see Emily Winters. The children are very fond of each
other."
"But I have told him not to go in there, haven't I?"
"Yes."
"Very well. That settles the matter. If he goes, he disobeys me; and if
he disobeys me, he must be punished."
"But, Andrew--"
"It is useless to argue about this with me, Esther. Entirely useless. In
your weakness you would indulge and ruin the boy. But I know my
duty better."
Mrs. Howland sighed deeply and remained silent. Some ten minutes
afterwards, seeing her husband engaged with a book, she arose and left
the room. As soon as she closed the door, every movement was
suddenly quickened, and she sprung up the stairway to the chamber
from which had come down to her the screams of her boy, as he shrunk
under the cruel strokes inflicted by the hand of his father. Entering, she
saw Andrew sitting on the floor, with his arms resting on a low chair,
and his face buried in them. He raised his head slowly, and turned to
see who had come in. The instant he saw that it was his mother, a flush
came into his pale face, and tears dimmed the light of his beautiful,
tender, loving eyes. In another moment he was sobbing on her bosom.
"Dear Andrew must not be disobedient again," said the mother, so soon
as her child had grown calm, bending close to his cheek as she spoke,
and letting her breath fall warmly over it.
"Emily is a good little girl, and I love her. She ain't bad, mother. She is
better than I am," quickly returned the child, raising himself up, and

lifting his eyes earnestly to his mother's face.
"But your father has forbidden you to go to her house, Andrew."
"Won't he let Emily come to see me?" urged the child.
"No, dear. He wants you to play with some one else."
"But I don't want to play with any one else. Emily is a good girl, and I
like her so much. Indeed she ain't bad, mother. She's good."
"I know, dear," answered the perplexed mother. "I know that Emily is a
good girl. But--"
"Then why won't father let me play with her?" was Andrew's quick
interrogation.
"He doesn't wish you to do so, my child, and you must be an obedient,
good little boy, and then your father will love you."
"He don't love me!" said Andrew in a tone and with an emphasis that
startled his mother.
"Oh yes, he does! He loves you very much. Isn't he your father?"
replied Mrs. Howland in an earnest voice.
"He wouldn't have whipped me so hard if he had loved me! I'm sure he
wouldn't, mother."
And tears gushed from the eyes of the child at the remembrance of his
father's stern face, and the pain he had suffered.
"Andrew musn't speak so of his father," said Mrs. Howland in a chiding
voice. "Andrew was disobedient; that was the reason why his father
punished him. Andrew must be a good boy."
"I ain't bad, mother," sobbed the child. "I'm sure it ain't bad to play with
Emily. She never does anything naughty."

"It is bad if your father forbids your doing so," replied Mrs. Howland.
"No--it can't be bad to play with Emily," said the little fellow, speaking
half to himself. "She's so good, and I love her."
All in vain proved the mother's effort to make her boy see that it was
wrong to play with Emily. He wanted a reason beyond the (sic)
commannd of his father, and that she was not able to give. The more
she talked with him, the more plainly did she see that rebellion was in
his young heart, and that he would act it