BRIDGET PRO TEM by Mary Hedley Scudder

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 3, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 43.

BRIDGET PRO TEM.

By Mary Hedley Scudder

"DID you say she was going?" inquired the wise man anxiously, as he laid down his knife and fork.

"Better say gone," replied the mistress of the manse, as she glanced at the dismayed faces about the table. "Bridget leaves this afternoon."

"And you are not very strong," said No 1, who was so near ten that he considered himself able to appreciate all his mother's feelings.

"Why, you can't use your right hand very well," chimed in No. 4, remembering he had escaped an expected spanking on this account.

"No matter, I can help lots," said little No. 3, with a cheery chirp, for she was a most careful little housekeeper.

"You see if mother doesn't come out all right," asserted No. 2, who had unbounded faith in his mother. "I don't see why we should have a girl anyway."

"Well," said No. 5 with dignity, for was she not three and a half, and growing all the time, "well, depend on me to take care of the baby."

Who could help smiling? Even the wise man emerged from behind his paper to enjoy it, and so much good will made the dining room sunny.

"Of course we can do splendidly," said the mistress of the house in her cheeriest tones, smiling on all the eager faces; "we are not dependent on Bridget, or anyone, so we will keep house together, learn a great deal, be very unselfish, and have a jolly time, even though we do work hard."

"Don't you expect to have another girl, my dear?" asked the wise man. "I fear it will be too much for you alone; you know how many steps there are in this big house."

"Of course I can't do it alone," responded the mistress, "but in this factory town there is very little chance of getting a girl, and so I shall depend on home help for a while."

Now the busy, practical mistress of the manse was much given to theories, and, not content with holding them, she must work them out. So for ten years, beginning when the first baby came, and she had an object to practice upon, she had tried first one and then another of her pet ideas upon the helpless infant, and his brothers and sisters who came tumbling on each other's heels. All the wiseacres in the family had held up astonished hands and prophesied dire ruin mentally, physically, and morally to the wise man and his progeny, but somehow or other the theories worked out better than anyone expected, and the croakers were beginning to think that perhaps the mistress of the manse might not be entirely wrong.

One of these theories was to train the children to self-reliance by instructing them from earliest infancy to help themselves and to help others. It was much harder for the mistress to show each toddler how to pick up toys or clothes, or go on an errand, than to do it herself; but in the end if she did not it meant dependent children, much more to do, and certainly less character building for the little ones, and so she taught each patiently and tenderly to be of use in the world. For this reason, being left without help, with warm weather coming on, a lame hand, and a large family, was less terrifying than it would have been to many, for she knew the children would be a great assistance, and for them knowledge was power, and tasks cheerfully and intelligently performed so much toward their development.

Never was there such planning and anticipation in the manse as during this last day of Bridget's stay, and, though the mistress was a little incredulous about the success of all the plans, she smiled on them every one, leaving time and circumstance to shape them, and knowing how many steps forward ambition and anticipation carried old and young.

At the end of six months she found that even her sanguine nature had been at fault, and much more had been accomplished than she had fancied could be. It had taken mountains of patience, but that helped her as much as the children; sometimes the little bungling fingers made more labor than to do the thing alone, but how precious were those childish attempts to help; and the companionship of those weeks, the development of faculties hitherto latent, and the new affection awakened by mutual interests and mutual tasks, were worth all the hard work and unremitting attention needed by a woman as full of cares as was the mistress of the manse.

That first week of falling into line, the wise man offered to expend his strength on heavy weights, the care of the range and the lamps. If a woman was unobtainable once a week, he descended from his sermons and dead languages to the very act of mopping the kitchen, and every day he made himself remember that to lay the two youngest away for their nap was another way to help the house mother. And when he was absent, as happened only too often, she realized what a strong arm she had to lean on when weighty burdens were to be lifted.

Soon the two boys realized this, and when these absences occurred, the little fellows tried to fill father's place by keeping the ashes cleared out or the coal scuttle filled. Each child at four years old, to carry out one of the theories of the mistress of the manse, had been taught to make the bed he occupied, for there was a dainty white couch for each one. So it was very easy when Bridget left, to make some other household miserable, for the young folks to rise earlier, dress quickly, and, with windows open to the sweet spring air, make their beds before breakfast, which was served on the minute.

Besides this the two oldest boys were taught to care for the tub and basin in the bathroom, and plenty of scouring soap and hot water made their task a light one, and the result aroused their pride.

As soon as breakfast was over, all began to clear off the table, falling into a systematic discharge of this disliked duty, one scraping and piling dishes in the kitchen, another putting away napkins and silver, and before it was realized, the table was empty, the children ran away for their daily Scripture lesson, while the mistress brushed up the crumbs on the hard-wood floor, and then joined the family at morning prayers.

When these were concluded, there was a stampede for the kitchen, plenty of noise, fun, and frolic, but in twenty minutes the little folks had wiped and put away the dishes the mistress had washed and rinsed, each child taking his turn at some special duty, so as to vary the monotony as much as possible.

Then the wise man would call out, "School-time," hustle the girls into their hats and coats, kiss the five all around, and come into the kitchen, to find it nearly in order, and to hear a smiling wife say, "Don't the children fall into line nicely?"

Practice made more perfect every day, and even the oldest baby, of three and a half, learned to wipe the silver before she trotted off for kindergarten, and No. 4, two years older, rushed home from school in time to set the table for dinner, and rarely did the mistress of the manse have to put additional touches to it, for it became, in its accuracy and neatness, a continuation of the kindergarten work from which he had graduated on attaining the dignity of five years.

It was always a busy morning for the housekeeper, in spite of willing hands and feet, and often there were outside calls and interruptions which took the time, but as school closed for the noon hour, dinner was upon the table, served far more daintily than when Bridget was the kitchen goddess. The two oldest boys, in white waiters' aprons, waited quietly and correctly, taking turns, so that each was able to have his meal healthfully, and yet none of the amenities of life were lost because the "girl had left."

As soon as dinner was over, each one fell into place, and the table was cleared, the dishes were washed, and by the time the hour and a half nooning was over almost everything was done; no one had been overburdened; and the mistress of the manse had a quiet afternoon, in which to rest, sew, or go out, and it was very delightful, especially when some little pleasure was planned in which all, even the wise man, participated.

When vacation came, the rules of punctuality, which made so much time, were still strictly observed, and with the freedom from school it was easy for little feet to ease the mother more, and yet not find the task burdensome. The eldest boys prepared many of the vegetables, and soon, under careful training, they and their sister took turns on Sunday in staying from church, and when the mistress of the manse came in at half past twelve, the roast would be cooking nicely in the oven, the vegetables boiling, or ready to go on the range, the table set, the youngest of the flock in bed for her nap, and a daintily dressed boy or girl was waiting to scamper off to Sunday school, while the rested and refreshed housekeeper finished the cooking of the meal.

With the heat of summer came languid days for the mistress of the manse, especially as sickness invaded the family, and sometimes the days and nights were long and heavy. The little folks debated among themselves, and finally announced that every day No. 1 and No. 2 would wash the dinner dishes, if No. 3 and No. 4 would put the dining room in order. And nobly did each child do his or her part, though the mother made everything as light as possible while getting dinner; but the little souls never faltered in their self-imposed task all these weeks. So when dinner was over, the mistress of the manse was very glad

to go to her cool room and rest, and when, refreshed and strengthened, she descended to prepare the supper, it was to find the kitchen swept and darkened, and everything arranged in the best of order.

Sometimes the work dragged, but never were the little helpers unwilling, never did they seem to feel their tasks a burden, and this was largely because the mistress of the manse planned so wisely that nothing should be heavy enough to weigh on them, and there should be many opportunities for play between the necessary duties.

On Friday one band of children prepared the rooms for sweeping, though it required careful teaching, and when the broom and duster had done their work, another detachment put them in order, at first superintended by the mother; but in time they took so much pride in their work that no supervision was necessary. The idea through all these busy, happy six months was to do the best one could, and to feel it was a lesson in character building.

When the wise man one day brought home a girl, the mistress was almost sorry, though she was very weary, and the children said, "How we will miss all the good things that only mother can cook!" All the family felt they had proved that they could be independent and happy with nine Bridgets, instead of one, in the kitchen, and, though the added leisure was improved, the memories of those six months, when everyone was full of business, and the home was the grand center, are treasured and talked over as a sort of golden age.—The Advance.