Her maternal instincts were very strong, and no mother had more delighted in her nursery than she had in hers. As long as there was a baby in the house the tenderness of her love was apparent enough. She wore herself out tending her infants, and no one ever heard her say a harsh word in her nursery.
But as her children grew up, there was much clashing of wills in the household. Her sons did not fear her in the least; but 99 with her daughters it was otherwise. They felt the mother’s strong will repressive; it threatened to dwarf their individuality and cramp that free growth that is so necessary to young things.
Dottie, who by virtue of being the last baby had had more than her fair amount of petting, was only just beginning to learn her lesson of unquestioning obedience; and, as she was somewhat spoiled, her lesson was hard one. But Laura and Susie and Clara had not yet found out that their mother loved them and wished to be their friend; they were timid and reserved with her, and took all their troubles to Grace. Even Mattie, who was her first-born, and who was old enough to be her mother’s companion, quailed and blushed like a child under the dry caustic speeches at which Clyde and Fred only laughed.
“You don’t understand the mother. Her bark is worse than her bite,” Clyde would say to his sister sometimes. “She is an awfully clever woman, and it riles her to see herself surrounded by such a set of ninnies. Now, don’t sulk, Belle. You know Mattie’s a duffer compared to Grace; aren’t you, Matt?”
At which truism poor Mattie would hang her head.
“Yes, Clyde; I know I am dreadfully stupid sometimes, and that makes mother angry.”
Mrs. Drummond often complained bitterly of her daughters’ want of confidence in her, but she never blamed herself for the barrier that seemed between them. She was forever asserting maternal authority, when such questions might have been safely laid to rest between her and her grown-up daughters. Mrs. Challoner’s oneness of sympathy with her girls, her lax discipline, her perfect equality, would have shocked a woman of Mrs. Drummond’s calibre. She would not have tolerated or understood it for a moment.
“My girls must do as I wish,” was a very ordinary speech in her mouth. “I always do as my girls wish,” Mrs. Challoner would have said. And, indeed, the two mothers were utterly dissimilar; but it may be doubted whether the Challoner household were not far happier than the family in Lowder Street.