SCOLDING AND NO SCOLDING—A CONTRAST.
By Mary M. Currier
“What makes you talk so loudly, mother?” said Alfred, impatiently. “Well, you don't pay any attention to what I say if you do hear me!” retorted his mother, in the same tone as before. Alfred went out, shutting the door not very gently behind him. Mrs. Baker went on with her sweeping. “How rough Alfred is!” she sighed. “And he's getting to be so saucy! I don't know what I shall do with him!” The door opened and two rosy girls of eight and ten appeared. “Here—look out; don't get in my dirt!” she called out, sharply, as they ran across the room and began to take off their hats and rubbers. Nellie stopped with one rubber off and looked at her mother soberly for a moment. “Are you cross?” she asked. “Why, no,” said her mother, “but I shall be if you bother me; I've got an awful lot of work to do, an' it's enough to make anybody cross to have folks running over the floor when they're sweeping.” “Scoldin' seems awful queer when I first get home,” mused Nellie. “We don't have any scoldin' at school only when some horrid girl gets mad, an' then Miss White makes her so 'shamed. Miss White don't scold; she's always talkin' low and nice.” “Humph! I should like to see her here talkin' low and nice to you girls and Alfred; I'll bet you don't act so bad at school as you do at home! I hope you don't anyway, for shame's sake!” After the children had gone to bed Mrs. Baker did a great deal of thinking. Was she getting ill-mannered herself? Had she lost the sweetness of her young womanhood? She had seen Miss White once, and she recalled her pleasant face and easy, quiet ways. The children were getting old enough to make comparisons and to see things with eyes of their own. She was aware that in comparison with Miss White she would not appear very refined or womanly. She felt angry and spiteful at first. “I'm as good as she is if I don't dress quite so well and have such company manners!” she said to herself. Then regret and shame crept into her heart, and finally she fell to crying. After she had had a good cry, she felt better, and she went to bed resolving that her children should not be obliged to give her a second lesson. A week later, as Nellie was giving her mother the usual good-night kiss, she said, “I like home better'n school. Miss White loves us all a little, but there's a lot of us, and it isn't much apiece; but here there's only us, and you can love us a good big lot.” Mrs. Baker's reward had come sooner than she expected.—Mary M. Currier.