There are mothers and mothers in this world,--some who are capable of sacrificing their children to Moloch, who will barter their own flesh and blood in return for some barren heritage or other. There are those who will exact from those dependent on them heavy tithes of daily patience and uncomplaining drudgery; while others, who are "mothers indeed" give all, asking for nothing in return.
Mrs. Drummond was a good woman. She had many virtues and few faults. She was lady-like, industrious and self-denying in her own personal comforts, an exemplary wife, and a tolerant mistress; but she was better understood by her sons than by her daughters.
Her maternal instincts were very strong, and no mother had more delighted in her nursery than she had in hers. As long as there was a baby in the house the tenderness of her love was apparent enough. She wore herself out tending her infants, and no one ever heard her say a harsh word in her nursery.
But as her children grew up, there was much clashing of wills in the household. Her sons did not fear her in the least; but with her daughters it was otherwise. They felt the mother's strong will repressive; it threatened to dwarf their individuality and cramp that free growth that is so necessary to young things.
Dottie, who by virtue of being the last baby had had more than her fair amount of petting, was only just beginning to learn her lesson of unquestioning obedience; and, as she was somewhat spoiled, her lesson was hard one. But Laura and Susie and Clara had not yet found out that their mother loved them and wished to be their friend; they were timid and reserved with her, and took all their troubles to Grace. Even Mattie, who was her first-born, and who was old enough to be her mother's companion, quailed and blushed like a child under the dry caustic speeches at which Clyde and Fred only laughed.
"You don't understand the mother. Her bark is worse than her bite," Clyde would say to his sister sometimes. "She is an awfully clever woman, and it riles her to see herself surrounded by such a set of ninnies. Now, don't sulk, Belle. You know Mattie's a duffer compared to Grace; aren't you, Matt?"
At which truism poor Mattie would hang her head.