AT THE LITTLE BOY’S HOME.
It was a very hot day, and the little boy was lying on his stomach under the big linden tree, reading the “Scottish Chiefs.”
“Little Boy,” said his mother, “will you please go out in the garden and bring me a head of lettuce?”
“Oh, I—can’t!” said the little boy. “I’m—too—hot!”
The little boy’s father happened to be close by, weeding the geranium bed; and when he heard this, he lifted the little boy gently by his waistband, and dipped him in the great tub of water that stood ready for watering the plants.
“There, my son!” said the father. “Now you are cool enough to go and get the lettuce; but remember next time that it will be easier to go at once when you are told as then you will not have to change your clothes.”
The little boy went drip, drip, dripping out into the garden and brought the lettuce; then he went drip, drip, dripping into the house and changed his clothes; but he said never a word, for he knew there was nothing to say.
That is the way they do things where the little boy lives. Would you like to live there? Perhaps not; yet he is a happy little boy, and he is learning the truth of the old saying,—