"Why," he said, "why,--because it doesn't seem fair."

"And does it seem fairer for you to lose your temper too, and try what
children call 'getting even with her'?"

"Well, Mother, it _does_ seem fairer, but I guess it isn't very,--very
_noble_."

"No, son, it isn't. And I hope you'll come to think that sometimes
nobility of action is better than mere justice."

"I see what you mean, Mother, and somehow, talking here with you, it all
seems true enough. But when we get away from you, and off with the boys
and girls, these things seem different. Were you always noble when you
were little, Mother?"

"No, Kingdon dear, I wasn't always. But my mother tried her best to
teach me to be,--so don't you think I ought to try to teach you?"

"Sure, Mothery! And you bet we'll do our bestest to try to learn. Hey,
Mops?"

"Yes, indeedy! I _want_ to do things right, but I seem to forget just
when I ought to remember."

"Well, when you forget, come home and tell Mother all about it, and
we'll take a fresh start. You're pretty fairly, tolerably, moderately
good children after all! Only I want you to grow a little speck better
each day."