hampering skirts, as bravely as the boys, and Ada Clare was known as 'a good sport'.
Francis Clare adored all his children, but his bonny Ada became increasingly dear to him. Mary looked in some doubt upon her firstborn. There were times when she was headstrong and disobedient, and Mary foresaw a difficult time ahead when young men would enter Ada's life.
Sometimes Dolly was frightened by Ada's bold disobedience of her mother; at other times she was grateful for some small rebellion which proved successful and benefited them both. The weekly dosing was a case in point.
As was the custom at that time in almost all households, the Clare children were given a mild purgative, usually on Saturday evening. Francis had been brought up to expect a teaspoonful of a home-made concoction with nauseating regularity. His mother chopped prunes, raisins, figs and dates, plentifully sprinkled them with powdered senna pods and a little medicinal paraffin oil and mixed it together to form a glutinous and efficient purge. It had the advantage of being reasonably palatable and wholesome, but Mary considered 'Grandma's jollop', as the children called it, very old-fashioned, and substituted castor-oil, which she disguised in hot lemonade.
It was Ada who called Dolly's attention to the suspicious oily rings floating on the top.
'Don't you drink it,' she warned the younger child, in her mother's absence. Mary was at first persuasive, then unsuccessfully authoritative, and finally plain cross, as the two little girls flatly refused to drink the brew.
Francis only laughed when she told him.
'Give 'em Grandma's jollop then,' he suggested. 'They like that, so they say.'
But Mary tried another stratagem. On the following Saturday a plate of dates was offered to the children.
'This one hasn't got a stone in it,' said Dolly with surprise.
Her mother, busy ostensibly with darning, said briskly:
'Maybe it's got some grey powder inside instead.'
'That's right. It has,' agreed Dolly.
'You get some dates like that,' said Mary complacently. 'Some has stones and some has grey powder.'
They ate them unprotesting, thrilled to have such a treat as dates; but Ada discovered the trick before the next Saturday. Other children had grey powder administered in this form, she heard from her schoolfellows.
Fruit laxative tablets, called optimistically by Mary 'nice pink sweets', were tried next. Dolly and Ada held them in their mouths, pretended to swallow them, and then removed them when their mother was out of the room.
'Put 'em under the table ledge, quick!' whispered Ada, and there for several weeks a collection of sucked tablets grew, on a narrow ledge under the table top, well hidden by the red tablecloth.
At last came the day of open rebellion. Ada refused to take any form of medicine again.
'You'll be ill,' warned her mother. 'It's only taking these pills regular that's kept you and Dolly so fit and well. Your mother knows best now.'
'That she don't,' said Ada defiantly, tossing her bright hair. 'If you looks under the table ledge you'll see what we've done with 'em all this time. And we ain't come to no harm!'
The pink tablets were discovered, the two little girls sent to bed in disgrace, and Francis told all when he returned.
He hugged his vexed wife and restored her spirits.
'Well, she've told the truth. Their insides works all right without a lot of oiling, it seems. Let 'em off, my dear, and save a mint of money, and temper too.'
Thus Ada's battle, and Dolly's too, was won. These things happened when Frank was too young to be included in the ritual, but as soon as he was old enough he was told by his sisters just how fortunate he was to have escaped such horrors, and how thankful he should be to those who had smoothed the path before him.
If Mary had a favourite among her three children (and she stoutly maintained that she had not), then it was little Frank. He was darker in colouring than the two girls, who took after Francis. The
Francis Clare adored all his children, but his bonny Ada became increasingly dear to him. Mary looked in some doubt upon her firstborn. There were times when she was headstrong and disobedient, and Mary foresaw a difficult time ahead when young men would enter Ada's life.
Sometimes Dolly was frightened by Ada's bold disobedience of her mother; at other times she was grateful for some small rebellion which proved successful and benefited them both. The weekly dosing was a case in point.
As was the custom at that time in almost all households, the Clare children were given a mild purgative, usually on Saturday evening. Francis had been brought up to expect a teaspoonful of a home-made concoction with nauseating regularity. His mother chopped prunes, raisins, figs and dates, plentifully sprinkled them with powdered senna pods and a little medicinal paraffin oil and mixed it together to form a glutinous and efficient purge. It had the advantage of being reasonably palatable and wholesome, but Mary considered 'Grandma's jollop', as the children called it, very old-fashioned, and substituted castor-oil, which she disguised in hot lemonade.
It was Ada who called Dolly's attention to the suspicious oily rings floating on the top.
'Don't you drink it,' she warned the younger child, in her mother's absence. Mary was at first persuasive, then unsuccessfully authoritative, and finally plain cross, as the two little girls flatly refused to drink the brew.
Francis only laughed when she told him.
'Give 'em Grandma's jollop then,' he suggested. 'They like that, so they say.'
But Mary tried another stratagem. On the following Saturday a plate of dates was offered to the children.
'This one hasn't got a stone in it,' said Dolly with surprise.
Her mother, busy ostensibly with darning, said briskly:
'Maybe it's got some grey powder inside instead.'
'That's right. It has,' agreed Dolly.
'You get some dates like that,' said Mary complacently. 'Some has stones and some has grey powder.'
They ate them unprotesting, thrilled to have such a treat as dates; but Ada discovered the trick before the next Saturday. Other children had grey powder administered in this form, she heard from her schoolfellows.
Fruit laxative tablets, called optimistically by Mary 'nice pink sweets', were tried next. Dolly and Ada held them in their mouths, pretended to swallow them, and then removed them when their mother was out of the room.
'Put 'em under the table ledge, quick!' whispered Ada, and there for several weeks a collection of sucked tablets grew, on a narrow ledge under the table top, well hidden by the red tablecloth.
At last came the day of open rebellion. Ada refused to take any form of medicine again.
'You'll be ill,' warned her mother. 'It's only taking these pills regular that's kept you and Dolly so fit and well. Your mother knows best now.'
'That she don't,' said Ada defiantly, tossing her bright hair. 'If you looks under the table ledge you'll see what we've done with 'em all this time. And we ain't come to no harm!'
The pink tablets were discovered, the two little girls sent to bed in disgrace, and Francis told all when he returned.
He hugged his vexed wife and restored her spirits.
'Well, she've told the truth. Their insides works all right without a lot of oiling, it seems. Let 'em off, my dear, and save a mint of money, and temper too.'
Thus Ada's battle, and Dolly's too, was won. These things happened when Frank was too young to be included in the ritual, but as soon as he was old enough he was told by his sisters just how fortunate he was to have escaped such horrors, and how thankful he should be to those who had smoothed the path before him.
If Mary had a favourite among her three children (and she stoutly maintained that she had not), then it was little Frank. He was darker in colouring than the two girls, who took after Francis. The
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