But all the others were there. Mother sat in her place at the foot of the
table, and little Doyle sat at her right hand in his high chair. The others
were ranged on both sides of the table, leaving the vacant place at the
head. There were eight children in all, the eldest a boy of sixteen, and
the youngest little Doyle. The three older children were boys, George and
Wilbur, sixteen and fifteen years old, respectively, and Austin, aged
thirteen. Then were two girls, Amy and Nell. After them came Harry, a fine
little fellow of seven, Lila, a tiny girl of five, and last of all the
baby.
Every child was robust and rosy, ready for a hearty meal and all the fun
that was to be had. Mother sat as queen, a dear, beloved queen, and the
children as they talked back and forth in happy freedom turned to her for
reference and sanction in all that was said. There was not one but bowed in
adoration at the beautiful mother's feet. And her eyes, how lovingly they
rested upon them! And how she seemed to be treasuring them in her heart!
This was indeed her kingdom, and she was happy. But of course there was a
sadness in her happiness, because her husband and the father of her
children was choosing a path that took him out of the family circle. But
since such was his choice, she was determined to make it up to her lads and
lassies to the best of her ability, and throw her teaching and daily
instruction against the influence of their father. She was making this
evening pleasant that they might forget the shadow that hung over them.
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