Stevie's mamma was very much troubled about this, for she dearly loved
her little son, and she saw plainly that as the days went on instead of
Stevie's getting the upper hand of his fault, his fault was getting the
upper hand of him. So one day she and papa had a long, serious talk
about Stevie, and then papa and Stevie had a long, serious talk about
the fault. I shall not tell all that passed between them, for papa had
to do some plain speaking that hurt Stevie's feelings very much, and
his little pocket-handkerchief was quite damp long before the interview
was over.
Papa so seldom found fault that what he said now made a great
impression on the little boy. "I didn't know I was so horrid, papa,"
he said, earnestly; "I really don't mean to be, but you see people are
so trying sometimes, and then it seems as if I just have to say things.
You don't know how hard it is to keep from saying them."
"Oh, yes, I do," said Mr. Lawrence, with a nod of his head; "but you
are getting to be a big boy now, Stevie, and if you expect to be a
soldier one of these days--as you say you do--you must begin to control
yourself now, or you'll never be able to control your men by and by.
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