THE RIGHT KIND OF BOY

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 29, 1902

THE RIGHT KIND OF BOY.

The other morning we were in the midst of a three-days' rain. The fire smoked, the dining-room was chilly; and when we assembled for breakfast, papa looked rather grim, and mama tired, for the baby had been restless all night. Polly was plainly inclined to fretfulness, and Bridget was undeniably cross when Jack came in with the breakfast rolls from the baker's. He had taken off his rubber coat and boots in the entry, and he came in rosy and smiling.

“Here's the paper, sir,” said he to his father with such a cheerful tone that his father's brow relaxed, and he said, “Ah, Jack, thank you,” quite pleasantly.

His mother looked up at him smiling, and he just touched her cheek gently as he passed.

“Top of the morning to you, Pollywog,” he said to his little sister, and delivered the rolls to Bridget with a “Here you are, Bridget. Aren't you sorry you didn't go yourself this beautiful day?”

He gave the fire a poke and opened a damper. The smoke ceased, and presently the coals began to glow; and five minutes after Jack came in we gathered around the table, and were eating our oatmeal as cheerily as possible. This seems very simple in the telling, and Jack never knew he had done anything at all; but he had, in fact, changed the whole moral atmosphere of the room, and had started a gloomy day pleasantly for five people.

“He is always so,” said his mother when I spoke to her about it afterward, “just so sunny and kind and ready all the time. I suppose there are more brilliant boys in the world than mine, but none with a kinder heart or a sweeter temper, I am sure of that.”—Our Dumb Animals.