The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-08-08
A SHORT STORY
FOR MOTHERS.
BY MRS. d. A. CHAMBERLAIN.

BY MRS. d. A. CHAMBERLAIN.
One pleasant day in the early part OF sum-
mer Max Fennimore stood leaning listlessly
over the gate in front Of bis fathers house.
But his listless manner suddenly changed to
animation for. on looking down the street,
he saw Frank Jones coming. Frank was
holding fast TO a string to the other end of
which was attached beautiful kite. Max
opened the gate and ran to meet him.
"Oh. Frank" he cried. 'please let me fly
your kite awhile"
WELL" said Frank, good-naturedly. But
hold fast to the string, for she pulls like
span of horses"
Max took hold of the string carefully, and
as he watched the kite, floating among the
very clouds. and felt it Juggling at the string
as if impatient with the tie which held IL to
the earth, he was filled with the utmost de-
light. He thrust his disengaged hand into
his pocket and drew forth a lead-pencil
gaily striped tin pen-holder, chunk of red
chalk, the neck Of a broken bottle, piece
of rubber, a bit Of cOlOred glass; all of
which he offered to give in exchange for the
kite, but without success. Finally he drew
forth a new pOcket-knife.
"See here, Frank said he. 81 will
give you this knife if you will let me have
the kite"
Frank was several years older than Max.
He had no notion OF taking an unfair ad-
vantage of his enthusiastic friend.
The kite is not worth near so much as
your knife" said he. Let me take the
string and 1 will bring The kite down. l
can show you in 4 few moments how to
make one for yourself"
Max was delighted. He watched Frank
as he slowly wound up the string, and
when the kite made a final plunge to the
earth, he ran and got il and brought it to
Frank uninjured. Then the boys sat down
on the sidewalk while Frank explained its
construction.
And now" said Frank, rising to 90, "if
you have any trouble in balancing it, bring
it over 70 me and will fasten on the strings
for you"
"All right" was the reply. and Max ran
back to the house and procuring piece of
pine board he entered the kitchen. The
room presented an appearance of perfect
order and neatness, for Mrs. Fennimore
was q model housekeeper and could not toll
crate anything like dirt or confusion.
There was no one about the house but him.
self, but he did not consider this an unfav-
cradle Circumstance. He set at work with
zeal which soon covered the floor with
hits of wood and ShavIngs. He soon had
the frame made and neatly tackled together.
He got paper with which to cover it; aud
then began a desperate search tor the
scissors. He searched through the family
Sitting-TOom. overturnlng his mothers work
in his haste leaving everything in disorder
and confusion. He al length succeeded in
finding pair, but could ind no mucilage
to fasten on the cover with; so, procuring a
basin, he put in a quantity of flour, and
mixing it up with water soon had liberal
supply of paste.
Finally the kite was completed. He set it
upon the table, and looked at it with an air
of pride and triumph. Max was an in
genious boy aud il was nice piece of work
a n
beauty. thOugh?' lie exclaimed to himself.
II do believe it is nicer kite than
Franks"
lie stepped backward to take a better
look, and in doing so stumbled over the
basin, and, overturning it, the contents ran
out on the floor. Max looked about him; he
had been so absorbed in the construction of
his kite as TO be entirely Obiivious to the
mischief he had been doing. Filled with dis
may he ran for the mop, and began des-
perate attempt 10 wipe up the paste. But
the harder he worked he further the paste
spread, enggltng bits OF wood and paper.
Max was in despair. Just at that moment
the door opened Mrs. tennlmoTe was about
TO enter but paused in the doorway;
through the door ajar Shecould look into the
other room, and her practiced eye took in
the whole scene.
Max Fennimore p 1t was only the bows
name, but there was a significant emphasis
and infection in the tone in which it was
uttered.
II didn't mean to make a muss," began
Max in trepldation, but was so busy 1
didn't notice what l was doing. Just wait
moment, mother, and l will clean it all
up" And Max began hopping again with
desperation. Mrs. Fennimore fastened
across the room and, grasping Max by the
shoulder, shook him free from the mop
handle
MAX Fennimorev' she exclaimed again.
what have you been doing?"
" Making kite" and Max glanced rue
fully al the beautiful specimen of his skill
that stood on the table as if in triumph at
having attained such comedy proportions,
amid such chaos of confusion.
" l VIII teach you how to make kitesp
And Mrs. Fennimore crossed the room and
Selling the fabric crushed it in her hands,
and thrust 1t TemOrSelessly into the stove
Then she turned her attention to Max
Didn't tell you before lett home" she
began, that should expect to find every
thing just as l left it when l returned?
And now, look at these rooms! And this is
always the way. l never can leave the
house for half hour, but when l return l
ind 1t looking as If a hurricane had passed
through it. declare Max, you will worry
the life out of me-"
Max was unmoved. 1t was not so much
because he had grown used to this express
sion, and stood in no fear of his mothers i'm
mediate dissolution; but with the destruc-
ton Of the kite, his penitence and remorse
had suddenly vanished, and he listened to
lis uUIllcl > NOEu5 Sll6QL ana Sulle0, and
would make no promises of better conduct
in the future. Mrs. FennimOre became
thoroughly provoked, and giving way to her
impotence, SIZE pushed Max before her
through the hall and thrust him out through
the street door
:. There" she exclaimed, "get out OF my
eight. You are the worst boy | ever saw
There!' throwing his hat out after him
That IS the last want to see of you"
Mrs. Fennimore was in the habit of giving
eXDrcSslOn in
words. the full meaning of which she did
not stop to realize. Perhaps Max did not
notice them much at first; but such harsh
and cruel words, although scarcely needed
at first, have power to return and echo and
Te-echO through the heart. She certainly
could not have realized that the impression
that she was making on her boys mind
would be as lasting as his existence; that a
mothers manner, her words, which make
up her influence over her child, will follow
IT always. That they will come back, per-
haps IN adversely, to strengthen and COM
fort with their geutleness and loving pa
thence, until 1t will seem almost that her
very presence is with him. Or they NAV
come to him in the hour of temptation, to
sting with their pain and bitterness, and
perhaps turn the balance on the evil side.
Max picked up his hat and drawing it
closely down over his head, started slowly
down the street, feeling angry and i'll
natured.
That evening as the Fennlmore family
were gathered round the supper table the
eldest daughter entered, looking flushed and
excited. Where has Max been this after
noon ?" she asked, land what has he been
why do you ask?" inquired Mrs. Fem
nlm0re, startled by her daughters manner
AS was coming home | saw him and
several other boys in the CUSTODY Of a police
man, going toward the station"
"lmpossibe!" exclaimed Mr.. Fennimore.
"You mast be mistaken. 1t surely could
not have been Max"