“My dear, that’s better than an experience. It’s a revelation.”
Mrs. Burton regained her pleasantness of countenance and said:
“I think that only one of kindred blood can comprehend an adult——”
“Unless modest enough to go out of self for a little while,” suggested Mr. Burton.
Mrs. Burton opened her eyes very wide and dropped her lip a little, but recovered herself to finish her sentence by “And I think it is ever so much harder to comprehend children, with their imperfect natures that never develop harmoniously, and that can but seldom express themselves intelligently.”
“I never noticed that the boys were at a loss to express themselves, when they wanted anything,” said Mr. Burton.
“That sounds just like a man,” said Mrs. Burton, fully herself again. “As if children had no desires and yearnings excepting for material things! What do you suppose it means when Budge sits down in a corner, goes into a brown study, and, when asked what the matter is, drawls ‘Nothin’!’s in a tone that indicates that a very considerable something is puzzling his young head? What does it mean when Toddie asks his half-funny, half-pathetic questions about matters too great for his comprehension, and looks as wistful as ever after he is answered? Do you suppose they care for nothing but food and play?”
Mr. Burton felt humbled, and his looks evinced the nature of his feeling.
“You are right, little woman. I wish I might have consulted you before I took the boys in hand last summer.”
“And I’m very glad you didn’t,” said Mrs. Burton; “for you did a great deal better with them than you could have done if I had been your adviser. There is some of the same blood in both of you, and you succeeded in many points where I have blundered. Oh, if I had but known it all before they came! How much I might have spared them—and myself!”