CHAPTER IV. THE GRANDMAMMA

herselftherewasamutualdislike—chieflyshownbyherinsecretdetractionsandcalumniationsbytheother,inanexcessoffrigidformalityinherdemeanourandnofawningflatteryoftheeldercouldthawawaythewalloficewhichtheyoungerinterposedbetweenthem.Butwithherson,theoldladyhadbettersuccess:hewouldlistentoallshehadtosay,providedshecouldsoothehisfretfultemper,andrefrainfromirritatinghimbyherownasperitiesandIhavereasontobelievethatsheconsiderablystrengthenedhisprejudiceagainstme.ShewouldtellhimthatIshamefullyneglectedthechildren,andevenhiswifedidnotattendtothemassheoughtandthathemustlookafterthemhimself,ortheywouldallgotoruin. Thusurged,hewouldfrequentlygivehimselfthetroubleofwatchingthemfromthewindowsduringtheirplayattimes,hewouldfollowthemthroughthegrounds,andtoooftencamesuddenlyuponthemwhiletheyweredabblingintheforbiddenwell,talkingtothecoachmaninthestables,orrevellinginthefilthofthefarm-yard—andI,meanwhile,wearilystandingby,havingpreviouslyexhaustedmyenergyinvainattemptstogetthemaway.Often,too,hewouldunexpectedlypophisheadintotheschoolroomwhiletheyoungpeoplewereatmeals,andfindthemspillingtheirmilkoverthetableandthemselves,plungingtheirfingersintotheirownoreachother’smugs,orquarrellingovertheirvictualslikeasetoftiger’scubs.IfIwerequietatthemoment,Iwasconnivingattheirdisorderlyconductif(aswasfrequentlythecase)Ihappenedtobeexaltingmyvoicetoenforceorder,Iwasusingundueviolence,andsettingthegirlsabadexamplebysuchungentlenessoftoneandlanguage. Irememberoneafternooninspring,when,owingtotherain,theycouldnotgooutbut,bysomeamazinggoodfortune,theyhadallfinishedtheirlessons,andyetabstainedfromrunningdowntoteasetheirparents—atrickthatannoyedmegreatly,butwhich,onrainydays,Iseldomcouldpreventtheirdoingbecause,below,theyfoundnoveltyandamusement—especiallywhenvisitorswereinthehouseandtheirmother,thoughshebidmekeepthemintheschoolroom,wouldneverchidethemforleavingit,ortroubleherselftosendthemback.Butthisdaytheyappearedsatisfiedwiththeirpresentabode,andwhatismorewonderfulstill,seemeddisposedtoplaytogetherwithoutdependingonmeforamusement,andwithoutquarrellingwitheachother.Theiroccupationwasasomewhatpuzzlingone:theywereallsquattedtogetheronthefloorbythewindow,overaheapofbrokentoysandaquantityofbirds’eggs—orratheregg-shells,forthecontentshadluckilybeenabstracted.Theseshellstheyhadbrokenupandwerepoundingintosmallfragments,towhatendIcouldnotimaginebutsolongastheywerequietandnotinpositivemischief,Ididnotcareand,withafeelingofunusualrepose,Isatbythefire,puttingthefinishingstitchestoafrockforMaryAnn’sdollintending,whenthatwasdone,tobeginalettertomymother.Suddenlythedooropened,andthedingyheadofMr.Bloomfieldlookedin. “Allveryquiethere!Whatareyoudoing?”saidhe.“Noharmto-day,atleast,”thoughtI.Buthewasofadifferentopinion.Advancingtothewindow,andseeingthechildren’soccupations,hetestilyexclaimed—“Whatintheworldareyouabout?” “We’regrindingegg-shells,papa!”criedTom. “Howdareyoumakesuchamess,youlittledevils?Don’tyou