"I'm going to be the housekeeper, While you are gone away," Said Hazel to her mama, One lovely summer day; "For I can tend the baby, It's nothing more than play. "I'll play that I am mama With lots of work to do; And then I'll call on brother To come and help me through With dishes and the sweeping, Like papa does help you." Then mama kissed her daughter, And said a fond good-by; But gently did remind her: "Don't let the baby cry, Don't burn the dinner pudding, Don't boil the kettle dry." There were dishes to be washed, And kitchen floor to sweep, And soon the precious baby To rock and sing to sleep; And dinner to get ready, And a watch on pudding keep. So busy was our Hazel With dinner to prepare, She did not notice baby Was tired of her chair, Nor that her helpful brother Had run away somewhere. She went to stir the pudding, But baby began to cry; She had to stop and rock her, And sing a lullaby; But could not get her quiet, No matter how she'd try. She called for helpful brother, And thought he was around; But no response was given, Not one familiar sound; For little helpful brother Was nowhere to be found. The noon hour was approaching, With dinner—not in sight, Although our patient Hazel Had worked with will and might To have it cooked and ready, And make the pudding right. When papa came at noon-time, A hungry man was he, But not a tempting morsel For dinner could he see; But poor discouraged Hazel With baby on her knee. The table looked untidy, The floor was yet unswept, And naughty little brother,— Safe out of sight had kept, While Hazel, with the baby, Had set her down and wept. When mama came at evening She heard her daughter say: "O mama, take the baby, I've had an awful day!" And Hazel found that keeping house Was something more than play. |