"Yes, nine it is, ma'am. God save us. Teddy will be
fourteen on St. Patrick's Day, and all the rest are
younger."

"It is a great responsibility to be a mother, and yet
how few there be that think of it," added Mrs. Francis,
dreamily.

"Thrue for ye ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in. "There's my
own man, John Watson. That man knows no more of what it
manes than you do yerself that hasn't one at all at all,
the Lord be praised; and him the father of nine."

"I have just been reading a great book by Dr. Ernestus
Parker, on 'Motherhood.' It would be a great benefit to
both you and your husband."

"Och, ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in, hastily, "John is no
hand for books and has always had his suspicions o' them
since his own mother's great-uncle William Mulcahey got
himself transported durin' life or good behaviour for
havin' one found on him no bigger'n an almanac, at the
time of the riots in Ireland. No, ma'am, John wouldn't
rade it at all at all, and he don't know one letther from
another, what's more."

"Then if you would read it and explain it to him, it
would be so helpful to you both, and so inspiring. It
deals so ably with the problems of child-training. You