oy had died of croup the children were a
complete success and perfect darlings, and Jill dressed them like
old-style portraits. Besides, Jill had tried out a new system of
education on the oldest boy; he had been taught to develop his
individuality to the highest possible degree. At eight, just before
the croup attack--though he did not know his alphabet or how to tell
time and had never been cuddled or rocked to sleep with nursery
jingles as soothing mental food--he could play quite a shrewd game of
poker and drive a bug roadster. Beatrice, in talking over the child
problem with Trudy, decided that if she ever had a son she, too,
would develop the poker shark in him rather than the admirer of
Santa Claus and the student of Mother Goose.

"Of course Steve thinks a woman should drudge and slave over those
crying mites as if the nation depended upon it," she concluded, "but I
should never pay any attention to him. He said, in front of Jill, that
he always felt well acquainted with rich children, for he had passed a
similar childhood--meaning that living in an orphan asylum and being
brought up by a nursemaid were much the same thing. Quite lovely of
him, wasn't it?"

Trudy could not suppress her giggle.

"I'm sure the children get on well enough. Just think, if you had to
plan all the meals and dress and undress them and all the baths--ugh,
I never could! And when Steve begins his eloquent stories about these
nursemaids who neglect children or dope them or do something dreadful
I simply leave the room. He actually told Mrs. Ostrander that he saw
her nurse slap her child across the face, and proceeded to add: 'It is
never fair to strike a child that way. It breeds bad things in him.
And he wasn't doing anything; it was just nurse's day for nerves.' Of
course the Ostranders will never forget it. Now, Mrs. Ostrander is a
member of the Mothers' Council, and a dear. She just slaved over her
children's nursery and she reads all their books before she allows the
nurse to read them aloud. I'm sure no children were ever brought up as
scientifically; they have a wonderful schedule. She told me she had
never held them except when they were having their pictures
made--never!--and that crying strengthens the lungs. Of course Steve
says we feed our lap dogs when they whine but close the door on the
baby when he tries it. So what can you do with such a person?"

To which Trudy agreed. Trudy agreed to anything Beatrice might say
unt