The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-10-03
DO THEY PAY!
Children Sometimes Do Not Seem Alto
Eether Perfect, but They Do Pay.

| gether Perfect, but They Do Pay.
Sometimes just think children don't
| pay" said one Of my careworn and dis
| couraged neizhbors one day. What DO
| you think about its"
well don't know" replied, and my
! conscience smote me even while / spoke.
, But then l said in mental self reproach
and self excuse for saying it, Il know 1
| didn't pay" and l don't think did.
But when it comes to my own BARNS
do they pay?
Well, they are "a sight of trouble" In
| deed they are, and they cost time and
money and pain and sorrow.
There are three of them and they are
| little things still, and my friends who have
| older children tell me that l need not ex-
pect time TO come when my babies will
be ''less trouble" than they are now.
cannot expect q time TO come when they
will not be a source Of care and anxiety
and hope and fear-no, not even when they
have gone forth TO homes of their own and
have their own little ones around them
Do they pay now? Here am wearing
old clothes and trying to brush up my hat
to make it look new that my Johnny and
Sammy may have new kits and REFERS
other children. They do kick out shoes so
dreadfully, and they haven't the first COM
junction of conscience about it, either.
They tear and smash and destroy and are
Into everything" particularly the baby.
Does 2-year-old baby pay for itself up
to the time it reaches that interesting age?
Sometimes l think not. l thought so yes
terday when my ows baby slipped into ray
4 i L. 81.
best white dress with my bottle of ink. He
was playing in the coal bod ten minutes
after clean dress was put on him, and
later in the day he pasted fifty cents worth
of postage stamps on the parlor wall and
poured a dollars worth of the choicest
white Rose perfumery out of the win
dow ito see it vain"
Then he dug ont the center of nicely
baked loaf of cake and was found in the
middle of the dining room table with the
sugar bowl between his legs and most of
the contents in his stomach.
He has already cost over 500 in doctors
bills, and | feel that ! am right in attrib-
uting my few gray hairs to the misery
endured walking the floor with him at
night during the first year of his life.
What has he ever done to pay me for
that?
All! hear his little feet pattering along
out in the hall | hear his little ripple of
laughter because he has escaped from his
mother and has found his way up to my
study at a forbidden hour. But the door is
closed. The worthless little vagabond
can't get in, and l won't open it for him.
No, l won't. ] can't be disturbed when
I'm writing. He can just cry if he wants
to. Iwon't be bothered for-''rat, tat, tat"
go his dimpled knuckles on the door. !
sit in silence.
"Rat-tat-tat."
sit perfectly still
Papa"
No reply.
''Peeze, papa"
Grim silence.
Baby tum in-peeze, papa"
He shall not come ILL.,
''My papa"
! write on.
Papa" says the little voice; 81 Tub my
papa. Peeze let baby inl''
l am not quite brute and throw open
the door. In he comes with outstretched
little arms, with shining eyes, with laugh
ing face. | catch him up into my arms,
and his warm, soft little arms 90 around
my neck, the not very clean little cheek is
laid close to mine, the baby voice says
sweetly:
81 hub my papa"
Does he pay?
Well, guess he does! He has cost me
many anxious days and nights. He has
cost me time and money and care and self
sacrifice. He may cost me pain and sor-
row. He has cost much. But he has paid
for it all again and again and again in
whispering those three little words into
my ears, Il Tub papa"
Our children pay when their very first
feeble little cries fill our hearts with the
mother love and the father love that ought
never to fail among all earthly passions.
Do your children pay?-J. II. D. in De-
troit Free Press.