"Children are sometimes interesting," he began. "The other night I was reading
when my wife came and asked me to go upstairs and reprove the elder boy: Cyril,
it appeared, would not say his prayers. He had quarrelled with Vyvyan, and
beaten him, and when he was shaken and told he must say his prayers, he would
not kneel down, or ask God to make him a good boy. Of course I had to go
upstairs and see to it. I took the chubby little fellow on my knee, and told
him in a grave way that he had been very naughty; naughty to hit his younger
brother, and naughty because he had given his mother pain. He must kneel down
at once, and ask God to forgive him and make him a good boy.

"'I was not naughty,' he pouted, 'it was Vyvyan; he was naughty.'

"I explained to him that his temper was naughty, and that he must do as he was
told. With a little sigh he slipped off my knee, and knelt down and put his
little hands together, as he had been taught, and began 'Our Father.' When he
had finished the 'Lord's Prayer,' he looked up at me and said gravely, 'Now I'll
pray to myself.'

"He closed his eyes and his lips moved. When he had finished I took him in my
arms again and kissed him. "That's right," I said.

"'You said you were sorry,' questioned his mother, leaning over him, 'and asked
God to make you a good boy?'

"'Yes, mother,' he nodded, 'I said I was sorry and asked God to make Vyvyan
a good boy.'

"I had to leave the room, Frank, or he would have seen me smiling. Wasn't it
delightful of him! We are all willing to ask God to make others good."