“Oh, Kathleen!” sighed Nancy as the two went into the kitchen together.  “Isn’t mother the most interesting ‘scolder’ you ever listened to?  I love to hear her do it, especially when somebody else is getting it.  When it’s I, I grow smaller and smaller, curling myself up like a little worm.  Then when she has finished I squirm to the door and wriggle out.  Other mothers say:  ‘If you don’t, I shall tell your father!’ ’Do as I tell you, and ask no questions.’  ’I never heard of such behavior in my life!’ ‘Haven’t you any sense of propriety?’ ’If this happens again I shall have to do something desperate.’  ‘Leave the room at once,’ and so on; but mother sets you to thinking.”

“Mother doesn’t really scold,” Kathleen objected.

“No, but she shows you how wrong you are, just the same.  Did you notice how Julia withered when mother said we were not to look upon Beulah as a place of hiding?”

“She didn’t stay withered long,” Kathleen remarked.

“And she said just the right thing to dear old Gilly, for Fred Bascom is filling his head with foolish notions.  He needs father to set him right.”

“We all need father,” sighed Kitty tearfully, “but somehow mother grows a little more splendid every day.  I believe she’s trying to fill father’s place and be herself too!”

XVI

THE POST BAG

Letter from Mr. William Harmon, storekeeper at Beulah Corner, to Hon. Lemuel Hamilton, American Consul at Breslau, Germany.

    Beulah, June 27th.

Dear Lem:  The folks up to your house want to lay out money on it and don’t dass for fear you’ll turn em out and pocket their improvements.  If you haint got any better use for the propety I advise you to hold on to this bunch of tennants as they are O.K. wash goods, all wool, and a yard wide.  I woodent like Mrs. Harmon to know how I feel about the lady, who is hansome as a picture and the children are a first class crop and no mistake.  They will not lay out much at first as they are short of cash but if ever good luck comes along they will fit up the house like a pallis and your granchildren will reep the proffit.  I’ll look out for your interest and see they don’t do nothing outlandish.  They’d have hard work to beat that fool-job your boys did on the old barn, fixin it up so’t nobody could keep critters in it, so no more from your old school frend

    BILL HARMON.

P.S.  We’ve been having a spell of turrible hot wether in Beulah.  How is it with you?  I never framed it up jest what kind of a job an American Counsul’s was; but I guess he aint never het up with overwork!  There was a piece in a Portland paper about a Counsul somewhere being fired because he set in his shirt-sleeves durin office hours.  I says to Col.  Wheeler if Uncle Sam could keep em all in their shirtsleeves, hustlin for dear life, it wood be all the better for him and us!

    BILL.