Papa's own girl: A novel

by Marie Stevens Howland

“Then they do learn the use of the ballot-box even at that absurd age.”

“Oh yes. Why not?” answered Charlotte. “The head-gardener, or his assistant, Edward Page, provides them with little hoes and rakes, or other small implements, and points out the work to be done. Then the chief sets them to work after his or her example, and sees that the gardener’s instructions are carried out to the letter. For this work, chiefs and laborers receive five cents an hour, which is their own money, and they can squander it just as they please; but as all the candies are of a simple and healthy kind, they can’t hurt themselves. Some of them save their money. The height of their ambition is to amass a fortune of one dollar. That takes twenty days, for they are not encouraged to work more than an hour at a time. They show real judgment in choosing their leaders, and these little leaders are very careful to please their constituents. So, in this way, almost from the cradle they begin to learn the principles of popular government. Why, they use the terms ballot, nominee, majority, candidate, constituent, just as intelligently as other children do doll and hop-scotch!”

“Well, it is plain to be seen that girls brought up so will never discuss the right to a voice in government. It will seem as natural a right,” said Mrs. Kendrick, “as that of breathing.”

“True,” said Mrs. Forest, “and I wish we had all been brought up so. If we had, it is my opinion that there would not be a house of ill-fame or a drinking den in the town. But let us go into the nursery.”

The doctor excused himself, and the ladies, all except the twins, went by themselves. Mrs. Forest led them through the long, well-lighted corridor, to the angle of the left wing, and seating them and herself in an elegant elevator, descended to the floor below, and then passing through the central court and the covered way leading to the school building, on the lower floor, they were shown into the nursery and pouponnat. Susie, who was one of the council of directors, was there, giving some directions or suggestions. She was dressed in a gossamer-like organdie, and wore fragrant flowers in her blonde hair and on her breast. The ladies noticed that Mrs. Forest and Charlotte gave their hands to Susie cordially, and therefore they followed the example.

The nursery and pouponnat were in an immense, high-studded, well-lighted and well-ventilated room. The floors were waxed or oiled, and here and there were bouquets of flowers in pretty vases, on wall-brackets. There were also busts and pictures. Everything was exquisitely fresh and clean. The pouponnat was separated from the nursery by a little balustrade, and the poupons were marching to the music of their own songs, keeping time meanwhile with their little hands to an accompaniment on a piano played by a young girl who was one of five who conducted the pouponnat exercises two hours every day. There were about eighty poupons, and some fifty babies, who were watching the poupons with great interest. There were toys of every kind, and little swings and various furniture for light gymnastic exercises. While the visitors were looking on, one of the poupons, marching somewhat awkwardly, fell and hurt his head. He uttered a loud sob and ran to the young girl, who took him in her arms and “kissed the spot,” in a motherly fashion, and sent him back to his place in the ranks after a very short term of consolation.

Mrs. Kendrick remarked the child’s restraining himself from crying.

“They very rarely cry when they are hurt,” said Susie. “If any child ‘yells,’ as Min calls it, the others stare at him, and he cannot brave the public disapprobation of his peers. This is a thing that we have all wondered at. Children are not very sensitive to the criticism of grown people. They can only understand the motives and feelings of their peers. You see there is plenty of sound, of prattle, but no racket. It is the same thing in the nursery at Guise. There is no punishment there nor here for crying, and yet they do not cry unless they are suffering. Their wants, all of them, we try to supply; and if they moan and cry, we know they must be ill.”

“Yet certainly that is not natural,” said Mrs. Burnham. “Children do cry when nothing is the matter with them.”

“Their wants cannot be supplied in the isolated home,” said Susie, very earnestly. “They suffer from lack of amusement, and especially for the society of those whom they can understand—their peers. It is difficult for those to understand this who have not seen the working of a well-organized nursery. When the mothers try to keep their little ones at home longer than a few hours, they worry and fret until they have to bring them back. The nurslings stay here all night for the most part; the poupons sleep at home. All the food for both these departments is supplied free. It is kept warm all day, and for the babies all night. There are several wetnurses, and mothers who have not weaned their babies come at intervals and nurse them, and take them home generally at night. All is free. The mother can have her little ones here a part or all the time, or keep them at home all the time. But there is not a poupon in the place who does not pass some of the hours of the day here.”