ame?" said Wallace.

"Arthur," said Phonny.

"Another day," continued Phonny, "Arthur was taking a walk with Fanny,
and he persuaded her to go across a plank over a brook, and when she
was over, he pulled the plank away, so that she could not get back
again. He danced about on the bank on the other side, and called
Fanny a savage living in the woods."

"And what did Fanny do?" asked Wallace.

"Why, she was very much frightened, and began to cry."

"And then what did Arthur do?" asked Wallace.

"Why, after a time he put up the plank again and let her come home. He
told her that she was a foolish girl to cry, for he only did it for
fun."

"And do you think he did right or wrong?" said Wallace.

"Why, wrong, I suppose," said Phonny.

"Yes," said Wallace, "decidedly wrong, I think; for in that case there
is no doubt that his fun gave his sister a great deal of pain. It is
very right for boys to love frolicking and fun, but they should be
very careful not to let their fun give other people trouble or pain."

"But now, Phonny," continued Wallace, "you are to be shut up for
perhaps a week, and here is an opportunity for you to show some marks
of manliness which we always like to see in boys."

"How can I?" asked Phonny.

"Why, in the first place," said Wallace, "by a proper consideration of
the case, so as to understand exactly how it is. Sometimes a boy
situated as you are, without looking at all the facts in the case,
thinks only of his being disabled and helpless, and so he expects
every body to wait upon him, and try to amuse him, as if that were his
right. He gives his mother a great deal of trouble, by first wanting
this and then that, and by uttering a great many expressions of
discontent, impatience and ill-humor. Thus his accident is not only
the means of producing inconvenience to himself, but it makes the
whole family uncomfortable. This is boyishness of a very bad kind.

"To avoid this, you must consider what the true state of the case is.
Whose fault is it that you are laid up here in this way?"

"Why it is mine, I suppose," said Phonny. "Though if Stuyvesant had
not advised me to bring the hatchet in, I suppose that I should not
have cut myself."

"It was not by bringing the hatchet in, that you cut yourself," said
Wallace, "but by stopping to cut with it on the way, contrary to your
mother's wishes."

"Yes," said Phonny, "I suppose that was it."

"So that it was your fault. Now when any per