Life — August 29, 1907 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

For a few moments they worked. And then Bobby suddenly took up the paint box and deliberately and skilfully turned it over. Having done so he turned defiantly to his father as much as to say, “Now we'll see.” . He saw at once. Winkleton lost no time. He took up his small son, who now began to scream, turned him over, and proceeded to ‘lay it on,” hard and even. “Mamma, boy. “Mamma!” shrieked Emily, “papa is whipping Robby.” The door burst open, and Winkleton rushed in. “What ts going on?” she exclaimed. “T never heard such a commotion. Why, we haven't had such a time as this for I don’t know when. What are you doing?” she said to Winkleton, snatching her sobbing boy away from him. Winkleton tried to say something, but the noise was too great When he could make himself heard he said angrily: “What did you come in here for?” “Do you suppose I am going to let you kill the boy””—straining him to her. “Oh, why did you lose your temper, my dear?” Winkleton, goaded by this piece of injustice, was now beside himself with rage. “Lose my temper!” he exclaimed. “Well, I like that. Here these children mamma!” shrieked the Mrs. have been growing up for years without any discipline whatever, just because I didn’t want to have a fuss with you. And now when I start in to correct them— this is what I get. How do you suppose I can control them, when you interfere in this manner?” His wife stood up angri “You don’t know how,” a At this instant the door-bell rang. Mr. Crane was ushered in A few minutes later the entire family descended, pulling itself collectively together, to mect him—Mr. and Mrs. Winkleton and Emily and her brother, whose faces and hands had been hurriedly washed. “Well, old man,” said Winkleton, “I'm delighted to see you.” “See my boat,” interrupted Bobby, not waiting to be introduced. “No, Bobby,” said Emily, “you must keep quiet. Mamma told you to.” Mrs. Winkleton frowned indulgently on them both, as she shook hands with her guest. “Pm so glad you could come,” she said. “Now, Emily and Bobby, be good. Show Mr. Crane just how good you can be.” ‘That evening (quite naturally in view of this public admonition) the children never acted worse. Bobby spilled his soup on the tablecloth. Emily called loudly for ‘‘more” meat. And both of them interrupted without cessation. As she said. for Winkleton, he resigned himself to the situation—it was no new thing for him, anyway. It was only when his wife had taken both children up-stairs to bed, and while they were at last at peace with their cigars, that he turned to his friend and said: “I'm going to make a confession to you, old man, which you will understand now better than you could have done before. You will see, I have no doubt, why I haven't been so keen about asking you before. The truth is, both of my children are spoiled. I suppose it’s the American way, and we might as well own up to i Crane, like all! confirmed bachelors, was inclined to be blunt “Well, I don’t know,” he said. ‘You are aware, of course, just what they need Why don’t you try it? Why don’t he asked, earnestly. “Just give them a good old-fashioned licking once in awhile.” It was inexcusable of Winkléton, of course, but the memory of a recent event still smarted, and, besides, Crane was an old chum, with whom he felt he could unburden himself without losing too much of his dignity. He laid down his cigar, tiptoed to the door to see that no one was near, shut it softly and came back to his friend. Then leaning over him, he whispered softly: “Old man, it isn’t the children who need it. It’s their mother.” Chesterton Todd. comicbooks.com