."

"You feel that they appreciate your kindness. Isn't that the reason?"

"Yes, ma; and then I want to do something more."

"I remember," said the lady, "when I was a young girl, about Hatty's
age, I went with my aunt to make a visit to a distant relative. There
were quite a number of children in the family. When we sat down to the
table, soon after our arrival, the boys and girls began scrambling
for food,--snatching everything that was within reach. I looked on in
astonishment. My aunt passed me some bread. 'I thank you,' I said; and
I repeated the words 'thank you' every time anything was passed to me.

"At last these rude children began to laugh.

"'Who are you thanking so much?' asked one. 'We never say "thank you."
We get all we can without any such fuss.'

"'At home,' I answered, 'I was always taught to say "thank you" for
every civility. I think it is much pleasanter to do so. Wont you try
it?'

"They began at once, in mockery, to pass each other cake and cheese,
laughing rudely as they repeated the words, 'thank you.' I was never
so much disgusted, and must confess, that before we left the
supper-table, I felt somewhat as Frederick did when Mrs. Perry treated
his kindness so coolly."

"How long did you have to stay there, ma?"

"Two days. I was never so homesick. The mother was a hardworking
woman, toiling from morning to night for her family. One evening she
sat up till midnight finishing a pair of mittens for her oldest son.
She told him of this the next morning; but he did not express one word
of gratitude. He only said,--

"'You might have finished them earlier if you'd been a mind to!'"

"I would have snatched them right away," exclaimed Hatty.

"His mother had never taught him to be grateful. She did not seem to
expect any thanks; but when he had left the room she sighed heavily as
she said,--

"'It's hard to please children, do what you will.'"

"Is that the story you promised us, ma?" inquired Frederick.

"No, dear; I happened to think of that visit, when you said you loved
to do anything for your sister because she thanks you so heartily."

"Do you suppose it was that visit, ma, that made you so particular
always to say 'thank you' when I bring in wood, or find eggs, or any
such things?"

"I was so disgusted, Fred, with the want of gratitude to their
hardworking mother, and, indeed, with the absence of common civility,
I may have thought more on the subject; but I trust you will f