Cheaper by the Dozen

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Authors: Frank B. Gilbreth, Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
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"What is her name?"
    "Mrs. Frank Gilbreth. She's civic minded, and she's a career woman."
    "Exactly what we want.Civic minded, career woman, and— most important of all—a large house. One other thing—I suppose it's too much to hope for—but is she by any chance an organizer? You know, one who can take things over and militantly drive ahead?"
    "The description," gloated Mrs. Bruce, "fits her like a glove."
    "It's almost too good to be true," said Mrs. Mebane, wringing her hands in ecstasy. "May I use your name and tell Mrs. Gilbreth you sent me?"
    "By all means," said Mother's friend. "Please do. I shall be disappointed, if you don't."
    "And don't think that I disapprove of your having children," laughed Mrs. Mebane. "After all, many people do, you know."
    "Careless of them," remarked Mrs. Bruce.
    The afternoon that Mrs. Mebane arrived at our house, all of us children were, as usual, either upstairs in our rooms or playing in the back yard. Mrs. Mebane introduced herself to Mother.
    "It's about birth control," she told Mother.
    "What about it?" Mother asked, blushing.
    "I was told you'd be interested."
    "Me?"
    "I've just talked to your friend, Mrs. Bruce, and she was certainly interested."
    "Isn't it a little late for her to be interested?" Mother asked.
    "I see what you mean, Mrs. Gilbreth. But better late than never, don't you think?"
    "But she has eight children," said Mother.
    Mrs. Mebane blanched, and clutched her head.
    "My God," she said. "Not really."
    Mother nodded.
    "How perfectly frightful. She impressed me as quite normal. Not at all like an eight-child woman."
    "She's kept her youth well," Mother conceded.
    "Ah, there's work to be done, all right," Mrs. Mebane said. "Think of it, living right here within eighteen miles of our national birth control headquarters in New York City, and her having eight children. Yes, there's work to be done, Mrs. Gilbreth, and feat's why I'm here."
    "What sort of work?"
    "We'd like you to be the moving spirit behind a Montclair birth control chapter."
    Mother decided at this point that the situation was too ludicrous for Dad to miss, and that he'd never forgive her if she didn't deal him in.
    "I'll have to ask my husband," she said. "Excuse me while I call him."
    Mother stepped out and found Dad. She gave him a brief explanation and then led him into the parlor and introduced him.
    "It's a pleasure to meet a woman in such a noble cause," said Dad.
    "Thank you. And it's a pleasure to find a man who thinks of it as noble. In general, I find the husbands much less sympathetic with our aims than the wives. You'd be surprised at some of the terrible things men have said to me."
    "I love surprises," Dad leered. "What do you say back to them?"
    "If you had seen, as I have," said Mrs. Mebane, "relatively young women grown old before their time by the arrival of unwanted young ones. And population figures show...Why, Mr. Gilbreth, what are you doing?"
    What Dad was doing was whistling assembly. On the first note, feet could be heard pounding on the floors above. Doors slammed, there was a landslide on the stairs, and we started skidding into the parlor.
    "Nine seconds," said Dad pocketing his stopwatch. "Three short of the all-time record."
    "God's teeth," said Mrs. Mebane. "What is it? Tell me quickly. It is a school? No. Or is it...? For Lord's sakes. It is!"
    "It is what?" asked Dad.
    "It's your family. Don't try to deny it. They're the spit and image of you, and your wife, too."
    "I was about to introduce you," said Dad. "Mrs. Mebane, let me introduce you to the family—or most of it. Seems to me like there should be some more of them around here someplace."
    "God help us all."
    "How many head of children do we have now, Lillie, would you say off hand?"
    "Last time I counted, seems to me there was an even dozen of them," said Mother. "I might have missed one or two of them, but not many."
    "I'd say twelve would be a pretty fair guess," Dad said.
    "Shame on you!And within eighteen

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