and the men
of his time. Stevie never tired of these stories. He knew Mehitabel's
leisure hour, and curling himself up among the cushions on the settee
beside her tea table, he would say, with his most engaging smile:
"Now's just the time for a story, Hitty; don't you think so? And
please begin right away, won't you, 'cause, you know, I'll have to be
going to bed pretty soon."

He knew most of the stories by heart, corrected Miss Higginson if she
left out or added anything in the telling, and always joined in when
she ended the entertainment with her two stock pieces--"Barbara
Freitchie" and "Paul Revere's Ride," which were great favorites with
him. "Oh, how I would like to be a hero!" he said with a sigh, one
afternoon, just after they had finished reciting "Paul Revere's Ride"
in fine style. Presently he added, thoughtfully: "Do you think, Hitty,
that any one could be a hero and not know it? I suppose Washington and
Paul Revere and all those others just knew every time they did anything
brave."

Hitty wore her hair in short gray curls, on each side of her rather
severe-looking face, and now they bobbed up and down as, she nodded her
head emphatically. "Of course they did," she answered, with
conviction. "You see my grandfather fought in the Revolution, so I
ought to know. But," with an entire change of conversation, "bravery
isn't the only thing in the world for a little boy to think of. He
should try to be nice and polite to everybody; obedient to his mamma
and gentle to his sisters; he shouldn't love to have his own way and go
ordering people about. I don't think," with sudden assurance, "you'd
have found Washington or Paul Revere or Lincoln behaving that way."

"Pooh! that's all you know about it," cried Stevie, ungratefully,
slipping down from his nest among the cushions; he did not relish the
personal tone the conversation had taken. "Didn't Washington order his
troops about? And anyway, Kate's just as 'ordering' as I am, and you
never speak to her about it." Then, before the old housekeeper could
answer, he ran out of the room.

You see that was Stevie's great fault; he was a dear, warm-hearted
little fellow, but he did love to have his own way, and often this made
him very rude and impatient--what they called "ordering"--to his
sisters, and Hitty and the servants, and even disobedient to his mamma.

Stevie's mamma was very much troubled about this, for she dearly loved
her little son, and sh