What are you going to do with me? Wait, I haven't told you the whole
truth,--I dislike them actively. As for my mother, she is not
committed to any theory about the essential integrity of infancy, and
she positively abhors them.'
'Then they are no more likable in the bosom of the family than they
have been here?' asked Mary, in a tone of disappointment.
'More likable? They are less so! Do you see any change in me,--a
sort of spiritual effulgence, a saintly radiance, such as comes after
a long spell of persistent virtue? Because there ought to be, if my
summer has served its purpose.'
'Poor dear rosy little martyr! Sit down and tell me all about it.'
'Well, we have kept a log, but--'
'"WE?" What, Rhoda! did you drag your poor mother into the
experiment?'
'Mother? No, she generally locked herself in her room when the twins
were indoors, but--well, of course, I had help of one sort and
another with them. I have held to your plan of discipline pretty
well; at any rate, I haven't administered corporal punishment,
although, if I had whipped them whenever they actually needed it, I
should have worn out all the young minister's slippers.'
Mary groaned. 'Then there was another young minister? It doesn't
make any difference, Rhoda, whether you spend your summers in the
woods or by the sea, in the valleys or on the mountains, there is
always a young minister.
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