utterly forgetting his knock or "Am I welcome, mother?"

"Bang!" echoed the door behind him with a noise that resounded over the
whole house. Why he was angry was plain enough. His eye was black, nose
bleeding, coat torn, collar hanging. His mother took it off as he bent
over the wash-bowl.

"Oh, Tommy," she said, "you've been fighting again."

"Well, mother," he exclaimed, "what do you expect me to do? That Bob
Sykes threw rocks at me again and called me names. He said I was - "

"Hush," said his mother, "you only grow more angry as you speak. Is it
hard for you now to remember the rule, 'The good things about others,
the naughty things about yourself''?"

"Good! There is nothing good about him. I hate him. I wish he was dead,
I do. I wish I could kill him."

Sternly his mother took him by the arm and led him before the mirror.
One look at the face he saw there silenced him.

"To all intents and purposes you have killed him. 'Whosoever hateth his
brother is a murderer.' You cannot but remember who said it, Tommy. It
is late in the afternoon. The sun is going down. To-morrow is His
birthday. Hadn't you better forgive Bob?"

"The sun may go down and the sun may come up for all I care," he
answered, "I'll never forgive him."