"I never _would_ allow my children to interrupt," said one. "They all do it, except Belle's children." "Then all children are disagreeable--and very disagreeable." "Come, Belle, speak up. How have you contrived it all?" "There has not been much contrivance about it. There were certain things I made up my mind to have, and I've had them. There were certain other things I wanted to have, but have not, thus far, gained. In other words, I do not consider our household life perfect. We every one of us, father, mother, and children, have our faults and foibles." "I should hope so," said Laura. "You would be fearfully uninteresting if you never said or did anything but what was prim and proper." "Oh, as to that, we are not prim, as you very well know." "What, not when you go on straw-rides? Dear me, I have been black-and-blue ever since you and his Reverence inveigled me into going blackberrying in that style. But come, now; what have you done to your children?" "I don't know," said Belle, trying to think. "Perhaps they were born with good manners. I never fuss over them; they seem to take to things naturally." "May I say what _I_ think about it?" asked Margaret, coming eagerly forward. "Yes, do, child," said Mrs. Grey, who had been listening in amused silence to the mixture of fun and earnestness visible in her young folks. "Mrs. Heath always _does_ what she wants the children to do; she never tells them to say 'I thank you,' but always thanks them, down to the youngest, whenever she has a chance; she never orders them about, either, but always gives directions kindly; and she never speaks unkindly to them at any time." "And never slides down the banisters or slams doors," Belle added, right merrily. By this time Margaret had shrunk back, rather frightened at having spoken out before so many listeners. "You are right, Margaret," said Mrs. Grey, not a little pleased at the girl's close observation; "emphatically right. In my observation of life, I have seen plenty of illustrations to prove that you are. "Listen, while I rehearse: "'John!' "'Sir!' "'Go up-stairs and get my slippers.' "John makes no answer, gets the slippers unwillingly, resumes his book, or whatever work he may be at, and then: "'John! John Burt!' "'_Sir!_' "'What under the sun did you bring these old slipshods for? I wonder if you ever did an errand right in your life? I never saw such a boy. Take them up-stairs, and get the other pair. And be quick about it, too. I can't sit here in my stocking-feet all night.' "Or put it thus: "'John, my boy?' "'Yes, papa!' "'I wish you'd trot up-stairs for my slippers?' "'Yes, papa!' "'And don't bring the old ones; they're done for; bring the pair Susy worked for me.' "'Yes, papa, all right.' "'Ah, _thank_ you, old fellow! When I am thirteen and you are fifty, I'll do as much for you. How nice it is to have a pair of young legs at one's service!'