for them what she
could do herself, for no one else could manage the unhappy temper of
Clarence; but so violent was the pain in her head, that she let Aunt
Mary go, and sank back upon the pillow from which she had arisen. A
good deal of noise and confusion continued to reach her ears, from
the moment the children came in. At length a loud cry and passionate
words from Clarence caused her to rise up quickly and go over to the
dining-room. All was confusion there, and Aunt Mary out of humour
and scolding prodigiously. Clarence was standing up at the table,
looking defiance at her, on account of some interference with his
strong self-will. The moment the boy saw his mother, his countenance
changed, and a look of confusion took the place of anger.

"Come over to my room, Clarence," she said, in a low voice; there
was sadness in its tones, that made him feel sorry that he had given
vent so freely to his ill-temper.

"What was the matter, my son?" Mrs. Hartley asked, as soon as they
were alone, taking Clarence by the hand and looking steadily at him.

"Aunt Mary wouldn't help me when I asked her."

"Why not?"

"She would help Henry first."

"No doubt she had a reason for it. Do you know her reason?"

"She said he was youngest." Clarence pouted out his lips, and spoke
in a very disagreeable tone.

"Don't you think that was a very good reason?"

"I've as good a right to be helped first as he has."

"Let us see if that is so. You and Marien and Henry came in from
school, all hungry and anxious for your dinners. Marien is
oldest--she, one would suppose, from the fact that she is oldest,
would be better able to feel for her brothers, and be willing to see
their wants supplied before her own. You are older than Henry, and
should feel for him in the same way. No doubt this was Aunt Mary's
reason for helping Henry first. Had she helped Marien?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did Marien complain?"

"No, ma'am."

"No one complained but my unhappy Clarence. Do you know why you
complained? I can tell you, as I have often told you before; it is
because you indulge in very selfish feelings. All who do so, make
themselves miserable. If, instead of wanting Aunt Mary to help you
first, you had, from a love of your little brother, been willing to
see him first attended to, you would have enjoyed a real pleasure.
If you had said--'Aunt Mary, help Harry first,' I am sure Henry
would have said instantly--' No, Aunt Mary, help brother Clarenc