e
first.' How pleasant this would have been! how happy would all of us
have felt at thus seeing two little brothers generously preferring
one another!"

There was an unusual degree of tenderness, even sadness in the voice
of his mother, that affected Clarence; but he struggled with his
feelings. When, however, she resumed, and said--"I have felt quite
sick all the morning; my head has ached badly--so badly that I have
had to lie down. I always give you your dinners when you come home,
and try to make you comfortable. To-day I let Aunt Mary do it,
because I felt so sick; but I am sorry that I did not get up, sick
as I was, and do it myself; then I might have prevented this unhappy
outbreak of my boy's unruly temper, that has made not only my head
ache ten times as badly as it did, but my heart ache also"--

Clarence burst into tears, and throwing his arms ground his mother's
neck, wept bitterly.

"I will try and be good, dear mother," he said. "I do try sometimes,
but it seems that I can't."

"You must always try, my dear son. Now dry up your tears, and go out
and get your dinner. Or, if you would rather I should go with you, I
will do so."

"No, dear mother," replied the boy, affectionately, "you are sick;
you must not go. I will be good."

Clarence kissed his mother again, and then returned quietly to the
dining-room.

"Naughty boy!" said Aunt Mary, as he entered, looking sternly at
him.

A bitter retort came instantly to the tongue of Clarence, but he
checked himself with a strong effort, and took his place at the
table. Instead of soothing the quick-tempered boy, Aunt Mary chafed
him by her words and manner during the whole meal, and it was only
the image of his mother's tearful face, and the remembrance that she
was sick, that restrained an outbreak of his passionate temper.

When Clarence left the table, he returned to his mother's room, and
laid his head upon the pillow where her's was resting.

"I love you, mother," he said, affectionately, "you are good. But I
hate Aunt Mary."

"Oh, no, Clarence; you must not say that you hate Aunt Mary, for
Aunt Mary is very kind to you. You mustn't hate anybody."

"She isn't kind to me, mother. She calls me a bad boy, and says
every thing to make me angry when I want to be good."

"Think, my son, if there is not some reason for Aunt Mary calling
you a bad boy. You know yourself, that you act very naughtily
sometimes, and provoke Aunt Mary--a great deal."