Village Squire, 1973-05, Page 9outside for over five minutes and we could hear her calling and
calling. The supper was getting cold. Finally she came back
nearly in tears.
"ivlax, I can't find the children anyplace."
Now I knew why it had been so quiet all afternoon. I was
worried. There were plenty of places dangerous for young chil-
dren in that countryside.
Supper was forgotten. I called the neighbours. They all
agreed to help. One even brought his hunting hounds. The
grand search party struck out across the fields. We searched
everywhere, the old gravel pit, the deep spring pond, the cliff,
the bush, but they were nowhere to be found.
I was as scared as a porcupine without quills as we headed
back to the house to phone the police.
"Oh my wonderful children" Max's wife moaned. The youn-
gest child, the one who had been left behind in the playpen
when the rest had made their escape was bawling. Marion was
on the verge of hysteria and babbling about men who were too
busy with their stupid jobs to care about children. Max, well
since both Marion and his wife had turned on us as the root of
the whole problem we were in the same boat for a change and
I actually felt kind of sorry for the poor guy as his wife tore into
him.
Both wives kept up their torrent all the way back to the house
and Max and I, the fearless bosses of our families, took it like
the sheep we were. The wives went in the door first, scream-
ing at us all the way. At the kitchen door both suddenly be-
came quiet. Max and I looked at each other wonderingly, then
went into the kitchen to see what had shut them up. There
were the five children, sitting around the table finishing the
supper that had been left on the table in the bedlam of organi-
zing the search. I looked at Max and Max looked at me and we
started to snicker. He winked.
"You know I always say that if mothers would take care of
children instead of criticizing their husbands there wouldn't be
so much trouble with kids" he said solemnly and then broke out
in a roar of laughter as his wife turned with a disgusted look.
The kids all had a big grin, just like their father's, on their
faces. They thought it was a great joke they had played on
their mother by hiding in the barn when she went looking for
the m.
Eventually things quieted down after the children stopped
screaming from the spanking their mother had handed out to
each. I went back to work but this time for some reason I for-
got to close the door. In less than five minutes Max's four-
year old came marching in.
"Watcha doin' Mister Roberts?"
"I'm trying to write a book."
"Like Goldylocks and the Three Bears?"
"Uh, sort of. "
"What' sit 'bout ?"
"Well it's kind of complicated. Why don't you go outside
and play?"
"I can understand. I'm smart."
"I bet you are. Why don't you go see daddy?"
"Do you want me to tell you a 'tory?"
"Not right now. I'm pretty busy. Maybe tomorrow. Did I
hear your mother calling you?"
"No, mommy is dong the dishes. Say, I found a frog this
afternoon. Do you like frogs?"
"Not in the house. Only when they're in a pond." I'd given
up the idea of ever having children.
"Oh don't worry Mister Roberts. He wouldn't fit in my pocket
so I left him back there." I didn't WANT to hit him but the
urge was growing.
Just in time I remembered the old trick my uncle used on me.
"Say, how would you like some cookies?" I took his hand and
led him to the kitchen and give him a handful of cookies. He
went outside quietly then.
I had just got back to work with the door still open when I
heard "Hello Mister Roberts." It was the six year old this time.
God these kids were smart. I shoved some cookies in his hand.
THIS time I shut AND locked the door. But it didn't do any
good because I just couldn't get the plot straightened out.
I didn't sleep much that night. Two days left to do two chap-
ters, with a house full of kids, a wife who felt neglected and a
do-it-yourselfer who could probably destroy the house before
Sunday night. Lord what had I done to deserve this.
Continued on pg. 11.
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