e antagonism.

Here is a contrast to this little story An old uncle came into the
family of his nephew to live, late in life, and with a record behind
him of whims and crotchets in the extreme. The father and mother talked
it over. Uncle James must come. He had lost all his money. There was no
one else to look after him and they could not afford to support him
elsewhere where he would be comfortable. They took it into account,
without offence, that it was probably just as much a cross to Uncle
James to come as it was to them to have him. They took no pose of
magnanimity such as: "Of course we must be good and offer Uncle James a
home," and "How good we are to do it!" Uncle James was to come because
it was the only thing for him to do. The necessity was to be faced and
fought and conquered, and they had three strong, self-willed little
children to face it with them. They had sense enough to see that if
faced rightly it would do only good to the children, but if made a
burden to groan over it would make their home a "hornets' nest." They
agreed to say nothing to the children about Uncle James's
peculiarities, but to await developments.

Children are always delighted at a visit from a relative, and they
welcomed their great-uncle with pleasure. It was not three days,
however, before every one of the three was crying with dislike and hurt
feelings and anger. Then was the time to begin the campaign.

The mother, with a happy face, called the three children to her, and
said "Now listen, children. Do you suppose I like Uncle James's
irritability any better than you do?"

"No," came in a chorus; "we don't see how you stand it, Mother."

Then she said: "Now look here, boys, do you suppose that Uncle James
likes his snapping any better than we do?"

"If he does not like it why does he do it?" answered the boys.

"I cannot tell you that; that is his business and not yours or mine,"
said the mother; "but I can prove to you that he does not like it.
Bobby, do you remember how you snapped at your brother yesterday, when
he accidentally knocked your house over?"

"Yes!" replied Bobby.

"Did you feel comfortable after it?" "You bet I didn't," was the quick
reply.

"Well," answered the mother, "you boys stop and think just how
disagreeable it is inside of you when you snap, and then think how it
would be if you had to feel like that as much as Uncle James does."

"By golly, but that would be bad," said the twelve-year-old.