A RAINY DAY | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · May 28, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 29.

A RAINY DAY.

"RAINING again!" I exclaimed, as I raised my head from the pillow and listened to the steady drip, drip. "What shall I do? The children will be shut in the house all day, and that awful ironing on hand, too. But it won't help the matter to grumble; one has to bear these things, I suppose."

Of course I was discouraged before beginning my day's work, and when the children appeared there was no cheerful word to set them right, and, as one of them said, with tears in her eyes, "Oh, dear! I'm so sorry it's a stormy day, for we were going to have so much fun under the big tree," I took up the strain.

"You can't be more sorry than I am. I suppose you'll all try what mischief you can get into to-day, for I've that basketful of clothes to iron, and I never knew it to fail but you'd exert yourselves if I'd anything special to do."

"I'll take care of Mame and Fred," said Elinor, who forgot her own disappointment in pity, which I felt was altogether undeserved, for my annoyance.

"I shall be very glad of your help," I answered, smothering my ill temper as I went to work. The breakfast things were soon washed, and everything in readiness to commence ironing; but the first sheet was barely folded and hung upon the rack when little Mame fell with her doll. A broken arm for dolly and almost a broken heart for Mame was the result. I looked despairingly at the huge pile of unironed clothes, then cried:—

"Go along with that doll, for pity's sake! If you could keep one whole for five minutes it would be a blessing. Take it to Elinor; she can fix it as well as I can."

Elinor tried most faithfully, but failed. Mame cried and cried, until, in sheer desperation I stopped and tied up the broken arm. By that time the irons were cool and the fire almost burned out. The fresh coal was slow to heat, and by lunch time only half a dozen plain pieces were finished. I hurried through luncheon and placed the dishes on the kitchen table, determined to get the benefit of the irons while they were hot. But no sooner was I well at work than Mame's jumping rope pulled a pitcher from the table. The crash brought me to the spot, but not in time to save Elinor, who, in her anxiety to catch the pitcher, lost her balance and fell upon one of the broken bits, cutting her hand and frightening us both. Fred in the meantime had upset the syrup jug while trying to reach some twine from the pantry shelf, and this proved the last feather weight I could bear. Elinor's hand was wrapped up, Fred reduced to a more presentable condition, and then we all indulged in a "good cry." Fred, Elinor, Mame, and myself all wept in sincere sympathy with each other, and pity for ourselves.

At this juncture I heard a light rap; the door opened, and Mrs. Herril, my neighbor, appeared.

"I didn't wait for any ceremony," she said, "for it's raining as if it never rained before; but I wanted you to have some of these biscuits—raised ones, you know. Why, what are you all crying about?"

I hesitated to enumerate my woes, and she continued, taking in the situation at a glance:

"I know exactly what you've been doing,—you got up tired; it's a dreary day, and you've tried to do an unusual amount of work. The children have been awfully troublesome—"

I smiled through my tears as she paused, for the picture was true to life.

"Now, my dear," she went on, "put that basket away. I don't believe in giving advice, but I've learned two or three things by actual experience. The wisest thing any mother can do, when she awakens tired and out of sorts, and hears the patter of the rain outside, is to consider how little she can possibly manage to do on that particular day. There's always mending on hand, or some such work, that may be accomplished while you are cozily ensconced in the pleasantest corner of the sitting room. Let the children bring their playthings into this same cheerful nook, and you will be able to watch them and take a good many stitches beside. They will appreciate having a day with mamma, and, instead of dreading the inclement weather that compels them to stop indoors, they'll soon look forward to a rainy morning as the harbinger of a red-letter day. If several stormy mornings follow each other, adhere to the same plan for the day, and take a couple of evenings for the ironing after the little ones are asleep, and both you and the children will be the better for it."

I had scarcely time to thank her when she was gone, but the sunshine she brought with her still remained. Fortunately, the next day was fine and the ironing completed without difficulty. But ever since that memorable afternoon I have worked according to the plan suggested by my kind-hearted neighbor, in whom I had the fullest faith, as she has the most cheerful, happy family I have ever known.

Her prophecy has been fulfilled, and Mame will shout gleefully:—

"It's raining, Fred! did you know it? We'll get our playthings right away and be all ready to visit when mamma gets the mending basket."—Babyhood.