His mother sighed. "Poor Nora, she has had discipline enough of a kind, and hard discipline it has been indeed for you all.""Nonsense, Mother, we have had a perfectly fine time together, all of us. God knows if any one has had a hard time it is not the children in this home. I do not like to think of those awful winters, Mother, and of the hard time you had with us all.""A hard time!" exclaimed his mother. "I, a hard time, and with you all here beside me, and all so well and strong? What more could Iwant?" The amazed surprise in her face stirred in her son a quick rush of emotion.
"Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother," he whispered in her ear. "There is no one like you. Did you ever in all your life seek one thing for yourself, one thing, one little thing? Away back there in Ontario you slaved and slaved and went without things yourself that all the rest of us might get them. Here it has been just the same.
Haven't I seen your face and your hands, your poor hands,"--here the boy's voice broke with an indignant passion--"blue with the cold when you could not get furs to protect them? Never, never shall I forget those days." The boy stopped abruptly, unable to go on.
Quickly the mother drew her son toward her. "Larry, my son, my son, you must never think that a hard time. Did ever a woman have such joy as I? When I think of other mothers and of other children, and then think of you all here, I thank God every day and many times a day that he has given us each other. And, Larry, my son, let me say this, and you will remember it afterwards. You have been a continual joy to me, always, always. You have never given me a moment's anxiety or pain. Remember that. I continually thank God for you. You have made my life very happy."The boy put his face down on her lap with his arms tight around her waist. Never in their life together had they been able to open these deep, sacred chambers in their souls to each other's gaze.
For some moments he remained thus, then lifting up his face, he kissed her again and again, her forehead, her eyes, her lips. Then rising to his feet, he stood with his usual smile about his lips.
"You always beat me. But will you not think this all over again carefully, and we will do what you say? But will you promise, Mother, to think it over again and look at my side of it too?""Yes, Larry, I promise," said his mother. "Now run after the girls, and I shall have tea ready for you."As Larry rode down the lane he saw the young German, Ernest Switzer, and his sister riding down the trail and gave them a call.
They pulled up and waited.
"Hello, Ernest; whither bound? How are you, Dorothea?""Home," said the young man, "and you?"
"Going up by the timber lot, around by the cool road. The girls are on before.""Ah, so?" said the young man, evidently waiting for an invitation.
"Do you care to come? It's not much longer that way," said Larry.
"I might," said the young man. Then looking doubtfully at his sister, "You cannot come very well, Dorothea, can you?""No, that is, I'm afraid not," she replied. She was a pretty girl with masses of yellow hair, light blue eyes, a plump, kindly face and a timid manner. As she spoke she, true to her German training, evidently waited for an indication of her brother's desire.
"There are the cows, you know," continued her brother.
"Yes, there are the cows," her face clouding as she spoke.
"Oh, rot!" said Larry, "you don't milk until evening, and we get back before tea. Come along."Still the girl hesitated. "Well," said her brother brusquely, "do you want to come?"She glanced timidly at his rather set face and then at Larry. "Idon't know. I am afraid that--"
"Oh, come along, Dorothea, do you hear me telling you? You will be in plenty of time and your brother will help you with the milking.""Ernest help! Oh, no!"
"Not on your life!" said that young man. "I never milk. I haven't for years. Well, come along then," he added in a grudging voice.
"That is fine," said Larry. "But, Dorothea, you ought to make him learn to milk. Why shouldn't he? The lazy beggar. Do you mean to say that he never helps with the milking?""Oh, never," said Dorothea.
"Our men don't do women's work," said Ernest. "It is not the German way. It is not fitting.""And what about women doing men's work?" said Larry. "It seems to me I have seen German women at work in the fields up in the Settlement.""I have no doubt you have," replied Ernest stiffly. "It is the German custom.""You make me tired," said Larry, "the German custom indeed! Does that make it right?""For us, yes," replied Ernest calmly.
"But you are Canadians, are you not? Are there to be different standards in Canada for different nationalities?""Oh, the Germans will follow the German way. Because it is German, and demonstrated through experience to be the best. Look at our people. Look at our prosperity at home, at our growth in population, at our wealth, at our expansion in industry and commerce abroad. Look at our social conditions and compare them with those in this country or in any other country in the world.
Who will dare to say that German methods and German customs are not best, at least for Germans? But let us move a little faster, otherwise we shall never catch up with them." He touched his splendid broncho into a sharp gallop, the other horses following more slowly behind.
"He is very German, my brother," said Dorothea. "He thinks he is Canadian, but he is not the same since he went over Home. He is talking all the time about Germany, Germany, Germany. I hate it."Her blue eyes flashed fire and her usually timid voice vibrated with an intense feeling. Larry gazed at her in astonishment.
