One morning Chester appeared with his weekly book, and as the librarian was alone, he sat down for a little talk. His face was long, and as he dropped into his chair, he sighed heavily.
"What is the matter, Chester?" she asked kindly.
"My mother is sick," he replied dejectedly. "She is sick in bed. My father got the breakfast, but he isn't much good,--and we children helped, but we ain't much good either. Not anything goes right when my mother is sick."
"But she will soon be well. Probably she has been working too hard."
"Yes, that's it," agreed Chester wearily. "My father says so. He tells her to let things go more, and she says she tries, but she wants the house to look so nice,--and see how well she mends my stockings,"--rolling up one of his knickerbockers, "and it is work, work, work for my mother from morning to night. Oh, Miss Smith," concluded Chester in a tone of anguish, "the lot of woman is very hard."
Miss Smith had never had such difficulty to control herself as when she heard this monumental sentiment from the lips of this diminutive urchin, but she managed to utter steadily, "Still, it must be a comfort to your mother to have so many good children to help her," to which Chester gravely assented.
There are not many children who so fully appreciate their mother's responsibilities; but it is well that, without complaint or whining, the mother should, in such circumstances as those which have been described, make her family understand that her "lot" needs all of the amelioration that they can supply; and they will love and value their home all the more, the more they do for it.
The same thing is true of the affairs of your town or city. If you do nothing for it, you are likely to care nothing for it.
In Miss McCracken's interesting book, "Teaching Through Stories," she tells of a little girl, who, from reading the story, "The Microbe Which Comes Into Milk," became convinced of the importance of pure milk. In this tale, emphasis is laid upon the rapidity with which milk deteriorates, if it is left standing in the sun, and the harm which often comes to babies in consequence.
A little later, a neighbor, who had a small baby, reported that this child rang her bell early one morning, about ten minutes after the milk-man had brought the baby's milk, and said anxiously, "Your milk-bottle is standing out on the piazza in the sun. Aren't you afraid it will spoil if you don't put it in the ice-chest?"