"As to that, Mr. Manly," broke in Mrs. Little, "there's our Tommy, a fine boy of twelve, as you know. He never acted like that when he was a child. I never had a bit of trouble with him when we had company. We could bring him down into the parlour when he was of Henry Pelby's age, and he would go round and kiss all the ladies so sweetly, and then go off to bed, like a little man, as he was." "Ah, Mrs. Little, you forget," said Mr. Manly, laughing. "Oh, no, indeed, Mr. Manly. I don't forget these things. We could do any thing with Tommy at his age, and it was because we managed him rightly. You can do any thing with children you please." "Indeed, then, Mrs. Little, it is more than I can say," remarked Mrs. Manly. "If my children could be made any thing at all of, they would have been different from what they are; and yet, I believe," she added, with a feeling of maternal pride, "they are not the worst children I have ever seen." "Good-nights" were now exchanged, and, after Mr. and Mrs. Manly had walked a few steps, the former said, "Well, this is a curious world that we live in. Ten years ago, Pelby, then a trim bachelor, as nice and particular as any of the tribe, said, in allusion to Tommy Little--'If that were my child, I would half kill him but what I'd make a better boy of him!'" "He did?" "Yes, those were his very words. We were spending an evening at Mr. and Mrs. Little's, and when Tommy was about two years old or so; and Pelby was terribly annoyed by him. He acted pretty much as all children do--that is, pretty much as Henry did to-night. But Pelby couldn't endure it with any kind of patience." "Ha! ha!" laughed out Mrs. Manly, in spite of herself. "How completely the tables have been turned!" "Yes, they have been, certainly. But what is a little singular is, that neither of the parties concerned seem to have gained wisdom by their experience. Pelby forgets how other people's children once annoyed him, and Mr. and Mrs. Little seem to be entirely unconscious that their paragon was very much like all other little boys when he was only about two or three years old. For my part, I think we should be careful not to let our children trespass upon visitors. None can feel the same interest in them that we do, or exercise the same forbearance towards their faults. Faults they all have, which need especial care in their correction; and these should be suffered to appear as rarely as possible under circumstances which prevent a salutary check being placed upon them. For this reason, you know, we have made it a matter of concert not to let our children, while, too young to understand something of propriety, be present, but for a very short time, when we had company. The moment they become rude or too familiar, they were quietly taken from the room."