ting-desk with raspberry jam, as of the occasion when he
perpetrated an act of original cruelty on Mopsey, a favorite kitten in
the household. We were sitting in the library. Johnny was playing in the
front hall. In view of the supernatural stillness that reigned, I
remarked, suspiciously, "Johnny is very quiet, my dear." At that moment
a series of pathetic _mews_ was heard in the entry, followed by a
violent scratching on the oil-cloth. Then Mopsey bounded into the room
with three empty spools strung upon her tail. The spools were removed
with great difficulty, especially the last one, which fitted remarkably
tight. After that, Mopsey never saw a work-basket without arching her
tortoise-shell back, and distending her tail to three times its natural
thickness. Another child would have squeezed the kitten, or stuck a pin
in it, or twisted her tail; but it was reserved for the superior genius
of Johnny to string rather small spools upon it. He never did the
obvious thing.

It was this fertility and happiness, if I may say so, of invention, that
prevented me from being entirely dejected over my son's behavior at this
period. Sometimes the temptation to seize him and shake him was too
strong for poor human nature. But I always regretted it afterwards. When
I saw him asleep in his tiny bed, with one tear dried on his plump
velvety cheek and two little mice-teeth visible through the parted lips,
I couldn't help thinking what a little bit of a fellow he was, with his
funny little fingers and his funny little nails; and it didn't seem to
me that he was the sort of person to be pitched into by a great strong
man like me.

"When Johnny grows older," I used to say to his mother, "I'll reason
with him."

Now I don't know when Johnny will grow old enough to be reasoned with.
When I reflect how hard it is to reason with wise grown-up people, if
they happen to be unwilling to accept your view of matters, I am
inclined to be very patient with Johnny, whose experience is rather
limited, after all, though he is six years and a half old, and naturally
wants to know why and wherefore. Somebody says something about the duty
of "blind obedience," I can't expect Johnny to have more wisdom than
Solomon, and to be more philosophic than the philosophers.

At times, indeed, I have been led to expect this from him. He has shown
a depth of mind that warranted me in looking for anything. At times he
seems as if he were a hundred years old. He ha