The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1888-04-12
"INTERVENTIONS,"

taken up the pudding too soon, mad
now, with some clatter and stumbling,
cleared the room and arranged it for the
evening. The children, who had not
minded her failures, and were merry
and talkative because there was a guest
who smiled upon them, had been coaxed
and commanded away to bed.
At last little Mrs. WOrden was free to
sit down by her friend for confidential
talk, and her husband was free to with
draw from his newspaper, not to the Ii
brary, but to the other side of the table.
Mrs. Worden had her work basket in
her hand, but she put it aside as she
looked into her friends face-the heart
was in her eyes.
Oh, Margaret, am SO glad to see you!
she sal l.. 1t was so selfish of me to ask
you to come now, but l never wanted
you so before.
And l never was so glad to come.
Do you mean il? / used to take such
pleasure in making your vacation pleas
ant, but everything is so different now.
Everything is gone that you used to en-
Joy; the nice large room that | kept for
you, and the pictures and the carriage,
and even the piano.
But, dear Helen, didn't come to visit
you for those.
No, but loved to think you enjoyed
them. Now | have brought you to this
little, stuffy, house, with the children
all over it. You can hear their noise
from morning till night There ID no
Elsie to keep them in the nursery, or to
take them off for an airing. They'll tor
ment the life ont of you.
No, said Margaret, my life will never
go that way.
But everything is so different, You
saw Bridget. 1t is so different keeping
house with her from what it used to be
with the three nice maids had. Indeed
/ do my best, Margaret, but you saw how
it was at dinner. We gave up all our
real silver. John would you know; and
we kept only partly broken set OF
china. The table doesn't look as it used
to,
Never mind, dear. Indeed, l don't
think of that.
No, said Mrs. Worden, mournfully.
But can't even give you much of my
self this time. have to be busy every
minute till the children are in bed. !
ought to be sewing now. We can't have
any nice talks over books and questions,
you know. hardly know such things
exist. My mind is full of nothing but
housework and children. I've given up
the Literary club and the Charity union,
and | cannot make calls. Those nice
people YOU used to like to meet l seldom
see now, I've just dropped out of their
way can't give any such nice recep-
tions for you as we had last year.
don't want it, you know | don't.
When sent for you last week | was
feeling as if could not face New Years
without you. When | think of the
change ona little year has brought il
seems like a night mare. Everything
pleasant went at once. 1t was hardest
TO lose our country house. We both low
ed it; it was 80 sweet and airy oct there
and we had such lovely neighbors.
When | look forward to spending the
whole summer in the city with the chill.
dren it seems awful.
And has it proved so bad as you
feared
Well, no: I've really been so husy
hardly knew how the days passed. And
we have been remarkably well, Land John
has been SO thoughtful for me and the
children. Poor John! think what year
this has been for him He was so used
to the sense of having fortune to fall
back upon. And now know it fairly
frightens him sometimes to think there
is only his slender salary between us and
want.
There is more than that, said Marga-
ret. There's Gods large, kind provi-
dence.
Yes, SAID Helen humbly, know, but
forget sometimes.
/ want to tell you something said Mar
garet. mourn over your losses, dear
Helen, but since I've been here haven't
been realizing them as you might think f,
I've been so happy over the gains.
What gains?
Oh my dear, you have got rd of the
interventi0ns!
What do you mean by interventions?
Let me try to help you, Helen. | was
a hypocrite often in the days when you
were rich, and visited you. Ipretend.
ed to be happy, and did enjoy great
deal that knew you wanted me to en-
Joy. But all the while there were such
uneasy fears in my heart! Sometimes |
thought l would tell you of them; then
| blamed myself for a worrying, silly old
maid, and was ashamed of them.
But what was it all about, Margaret
About the interventions; the inter
ventions between you and your children
first of all. The big house with the big
rooms seemed one of them. The nursery
was so far from your sitting room. How
could you know the children as you do
now they are thrown right about you
here? And Elsie was another. She mar.
shaled them to airings and meals and
bed so irreproachably there seemed hard
ly chance for them to get at you. And
she WAS jealous when the baby cried for
her dear ill mamma, don't you remem.
Der? Mabel fdgeted under rule, and
wanted to play in the veranda near you
instead of walking out with the baby
carriage. And when Maurice had those
dreadful outbreaks of temper, and none
of you knew what 10 do with him-for-
give me, Helen-it seemed to me some
times Just protest of his nature against
.uncongenial companionship. Would
not you or be cross, perhaps, if we had
to spend six or eight solid hours of the
day with people who did not satisfy our
hearts and minds at allI And your chill.
dren have natures like your own, sensi-
tive to society, and minds like yours,
bright and demanding,
Oh Margaret! Why cid you not speak
of this
| could not. 1t seemed meddlesome.
| was not even sure was right. But all
that is gone now, and am so glad.
Maurice. said Mrs. Warden thought
fully, has been the sweetest, best boy
this last six months that mother could
ask for.
And the Literary club, Margaret re-
sumed, and the Charity union, and the
new books, and the questions-l was
half jealous of them all the time, though
they were 30 good and pleasant. They
did intervene. They kept you hours
away from home, or took up much time
when you we're there. All that time the
children were among ervants-young
children, that have such active minds.
My dear, know I'm only foreboding,
anxious, old maid, but when | read in
the paper the stories that shock us so
about girls who have been reared In
wealth and position, and elope with their
servants, think me that there is sim
Dle reason back of every wonder. II a
girl through many hours of her early
life has found her best comfort and en-
tertainment from some good natured
cook, or coachman, or gardener, why
should we think like associations would
prove repulsive to her afterward Don't
you remember what a facinatiOn for
your Jessie that slim handsome mulatto,
Jim, had?
Margaret. oh Margaret
know: but shiyered to see her how
ering about the buffers pantry when
ever she could escape Elsie. He had
some monkey tricks and little songs and
stories that appealed to her Imagination