“You have only made the mistake that most young wives make—forgotten your duty to your husband in your love for your children. A very natural and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be remedied before you take to different ways; for children should draw you nearer than ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and John had nothing to do but support them. I’ve seen it for some weeks, but have not spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time.”
“I’m afraid it won’t. If I ask him to stay, he’ll think I’m jealous; and I wouldn’t insult him by such an idea. He doesn’t see that I want him, and I don’t know how to tell him without words.”
“Make it so pleasant he won’t want to go away. My dear, he’s longing for his little home; but it isn’t home without you, and you are always in the nursery.”
“Oughtn’t I to be there?”
“Not all the time; too much confinement makes you nervous, and then you are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well as to the babies; don’t neglect husband for children, don’t shut him out of the nursery, but teach him how to help in it. His place is there as well as yours, and the children need him; let him feel that he has his part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be better for you all.”
“You really think so, mother?”
“I know it, Meg, for I’ve tried it; and I seldom give advice unless I’ve proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on just as you are, feeling as if I didn’t do my duty unless I devoted myself wholly