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The Little Housekeepers’ Club

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 2, 1907

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 84, No. 18.

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The Little Housekeepers’ Club

By Hilda Richmond

“It worries me more than I can tell you, mother, to have to leave you with all this responsibility,” said Mrs. Packer, as she nervously wrote down necessary directions about her household in a small note-book. “If father didn’t absolutely need me, I don’t see how I could go away just now. Mattie! come right back here with that brush and do the work right. You will find the children like to sneak out of their tasks,” she went on, as ten-year-old Mattie sulkily went at the carpet-protector under the stove again, “but you must be firm. It really seems to me that I have less trouble when I do the work myself, but I think they must learn all these things. What is it, Carl? No, you can not go off to play till every bit of the wood is piled up in the shed. It doesn’t make a bit of difference if they are waiting. You should have done it this morning, as I told you.”
“We’ll get along first-rate,” said old Mrs. Packer, cheerfully. “You don’t worry the least bit, or you will not be able to help take care of your sick father. The children will be a great help with the work.”
“I don’t know about that,” said her daughter-in-law, doubtfully. “I am afraid they will impose upon you. Yes, you may go, Mattie; though you don’t deserve to, for banging the door when I called you back. Aren’t you ashamed to show grandma what a naughty girl you can be?”
Mattie did not reply, and presently her mother was deep in the list of things the children would have to do during her absence. She did not say to the peaceful old lady knitting by the fire that she expected the entire routine of the household to be upset while she was away, but in her heart she confidently expected this result, for her mother-in-law was too easy-going to keep the four lively children within bounds, she feared. Her father had suddenly been taken ill, and she was summoned to her old home with scarcely a day to get ready or make plans for the well-being of her family. Between anxiety for her father and worrying about her family, she departed, and Mrs. Packer, senior, was left in charge of things at twilight of a cold winter day.
Every letter Mrs. Packer wrote home during the anxious days that followed was filled with directions and exhortations to the children to “mind grandma and be good,” while old Mrs. Packer was urged to be firm and not let the boys and girls impose upon her. “It is very kind of you, mother, to assure me that everything is getting along all right,” she wrote, “but I can not help feeling worried, for I know how the children are. They do not mean to be disobedient and careless, but are like all boys and girls. You must make them mind and do their work if you expect any peace.”
It was a solemn and joyful moment when the doctor said, “Your father is on the road to recovery, Mrs. Packer. In a few days he will be out of all danger.”
“I am so glad,” said Mrs. Packer, with happy tears. “I feel that I must go home as soon as possible, for my children will be utterly spoiled if I stay here much longer. They have been six weeks in the charge of the most indulgent grandmother that ever lived, and I am afraid it will take a year to undo her work. She is a dear old lady, but her ideas of discipline have changed wonderfully since she brought up her own boys and girls.”
“Maybe they have changed for the better,” said the doctor, quietly. “You mothers have not enough patience with the children, while grandmothers are mellowed by age and experience till they are better fitted to guide and control the restless bodies and minds.”
“That sounds very well, but in actual life it will not do,” laughed Mrs. Packer. “My husband thinks I am too firm with our children, but I tell him he ought to be shut up in the house some rainy day with them to see what I endure. If my children are changed for the better through their grandmother’s mild methods of dealing with them, I will gladly follow her plan; but don’t count on hearing that they are.”
“Well, we doctors would have less to do if mothers governed less—or rather, talked less about governing,” said the wise doctor. “They spend their energy and strength scolding and arguing, instead of ruling their little kingdoms by love.”
“A beautiful theory,” said Mrs. Packer, “but as I said, entirely out of place with noisy boys and girls.”
It was late in the twilight of another cold day that Mrs. Packer arrived at her home and found a warm supper waiting for her. “It is so good to be home,” she said, looking at the dear, familiar faces once more. “Mother, your biscuits are just splendid. I never feel the least bit jealous when James praises them, for I know you make better ones than I can.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” said Mrs. Packer, senior, with a kindly smile, while Fred choked over his glass of milk, and Mattie looked resolutely at her plate to hide a smile. “How do you like the baked potatoes?”
“They are delicious—everything is perfect,” said Mrs. Packer. “At father’s they have to depend upon the housekeeper for everything, and the cooking doesn’t taste the same. I enjoy your baked apples so much, and all the good things you prepared. I am afraid you did too much while I was away.”
“The children got supper,” said grandmother, with a twinkle in her eye. “They prepared everything themselves.”
“The children! Impossible! They always hated to do the little tasks about the kitchen, so I put off teaching them to cook even simple things.”
“Grandma started a Little Housekeepers’ Club for us, and it’s the most fun, mama,” explained Esther. “Carl is president, and I am secretary. Mattie made the biscuits this evening, and Carl the coffee, and Fred baked the potatoes. Grandma didn’t do a thing but sit in a rocking-chair and tell us a few things.”
“I had to tell them very few things,” said grandma. “Esther forgot to say that she made the gingerbread. You may sit in the rocking-chair after supper, and see how we manage the evening work. The treasurer and the vice-president are to do the dishes this evening, I believe.”
Everything went well till the vice-president broke a saucer in her anxiety to show how well and rapidly she could wipe the dishes. A sharp reproof rose to Mrs. Packer’s lips, but before she could say a word, grandma spoke cheerily, “Never mind, dear. Accidents will happen.”
“Yes, and it was only an old saucer,” said Mrs. James Packer, wondering why sharp words came so readily to her lips. “I think you have done very well this evening—all of you.” The look of grateful surprise that came into her little girl’s eyes brought quick tears to those of the mother. “The poor little thing seemed to expect something in the way of punishment,” she thought, as the evening work was speedily finished. “Perhaps James and the doctor are right, and I am too severe.”
After the children were in bed that night, Mrs. Packer heard all about the Little Housekeepers’ Club. “The children really enjoy doing their work, Maggie, and they do it well for little folk. You must remember that Mattie is only ten, and the rest younger, so they can not be perfect. They have broken a few dishes, and have done some things entirely wrong, but it doesn’t pay to find fault. I always try to find something to praise, even if only the endeavor to work. You have very good children, and they love you sincerely,” said the wise old lady.
“I don’t believe in hiring children to do things,” said the younger lady, feeling the foundations of all her cherished theories crumbling. “Esther said you gave them little prizes for their cooking, and Carl showed me a new jackknife you bought for him when he put the woodhouse in good order and split all the kindlings without being reminded.”
“That isn’t hiring them,” said the old lady, promptly. “Maggie, do you like to have your cooking praised?”
“Certainly, mother. I think all housekeepers have that weakness, so I might as well confess.”
“Well, then, what praise is to you, the bright pennies and little prizes and permission to make their favorite dishes are to your children. Just suppose you were hurrying to go shopping or attend a meeting, and slighted some of your tasks a little to get an early start, and some person bigger and stronger made you come back and do everything over again. I have seen you call Mattie back to some tasks when her schoolmates were waiting, and then wonder why she pouted and slammed the doors. I did give the children little prizes, and they enjoyed them wonderfully. I can see now how many things I might have done for my children, but it is too late, so I am trying all my new plans on my grandchildren. Forgive me, Maggie, if I have spoken too plainly. I hope you will not find the children spoiled by having me with them six weeks.”
“The children are all right; it is their mother who needs reforming,” said Mrs. Packer, with tears in her eyes. “You did not speak too plainly, mother. I think we will continue the Little Housekeepers’ Club, and I will join it myself. Sometimes my cakes fall and my biscuits are heavy, so it will do me good as well as the children.”
“The offices are all gone,” laughed the old lady, much relieved, “but you can come in as the only plain member. I am sure you will find life much better and happier for our little club, my dear.”
And when friends and neighbors remarked about the fondness of the Packer children for their home, and the ease with which their mother guided and trained them, that happy woman gave grandmother and her club ample credit. —Hilda Richmond.