It was then four, and the sun did not set until near eight o'clock.
Up-stairs the poor child had to go, and then his mother found some
quiet. Her babe slept soundly in the cradle, undisturbed by Tommy's
racket, and she enjoyed a new novel to the extent of almost entirely
forgetting her lonely boy shut up in the chamber above.

"Where's Tommy?" asked a friend, who dropped in about six o'clock.

"In bed," said the mother, with a sigh.

"What's the matter? Is he sick?"

"Oh, no. I almost wish he were."

"What a strange wish! Why do you wish so?"

"Oh, because he is like a little angel when he is sick--as good as
he can be. I had to send him to bed as a punishment for
disobedience. He is a hard child to manage; I think I never saw one
just like him; but, you know, obedience is every thing. It is our
duty to require a strict regard to this in our children."

"Certainly. If they do not obey their parents as children, they will
not obey the laws as men."

"That is precisely the view I take; and I make it a point to require
implicit obedience in my boy. This is my duty as a parent; but I
find it hard work."

"It is hard, doubtless. Still we must persevere, and, in patience,