“Perhaps so.  I try to be firm, and consistent, and kind with my children; to exercise toward them constant forbearance; but, after all, it is very hard to know exactly how to govern them.”

“Mother, can’t I go over into the square?” asked Emma, looking into the parlour just at this time.  She was a little girl about eight years old.

“I would rather not have you go, my dear,” returned Mrs. Stanley.

“Oh yes, mother, do let me go,” urged Emma.

“Ellen can’t go with you now; and I do not wish you to go alone.”

“I can go well enough, mother.”

“Well, run along then, you intolerable little tease, you!”

Emma scampered away, and Mrs. Stanley remarked—­

“That is the way.  They gain their ends by importunity.”

“But should you allow that, my friend?”

“There was no particular reason why Emma should not go to the square.  I didn’t think, at first, when I said I would rather not have her go, or I would have said ‘yes’ at once.  It is so difficult to decide upon children’s requests on the spur of the moment.”

“But after you had said that you did not want her to go to the square, would it not have been better to have made her abide by your wishes?”

“I don’t think it would have been right for me to have deprived the child of the pleasure of playing in the square, from the mere pride of consistency.  I was wrong in objecting at first—­to have adhered to my objection would have been still a greater wrong;—­don’t you think so?”

“I do not,” returned Mrs. Noland.  “I know of no greater evil in a family, than for the children to discover that their parents vacillate in any matter regarding them.  A denial once made to any request should be positive, even if, in a moment after, it be seen to have been made without sufficient reason.”

“I cannot agree with you.  Justice, I hold, to be paramount in all things.  We should never wrong a child.”

The third appearance of Charley again broke in upon the conversation.

“Give me another piece of cake, mother.”

“What!  Didn’t I tell you that there was no more for you?  No! you cannot have another morsel.”

“I want some more cake,” whined the child.

“Not a crumb more, sir.”

The whine rose into a cry.

“Go up stairs, sir.”

Charley did not move.

“Go this instant.”

“Give me some cake.”

“No.”

The cry swelled into a loud bawl.

Mrs. Stanley became excessively annoyed.  “I never saw such persevering children in my life,” said she, impatiently.  “They don’t regard what I say any more than if I had not spoken.  Charles!  Go out of the parlour this moment!”

The tone in which this was uttered the child understood.  He left the parlour slowly, but continued to cry at the top of his voice.  The parlour bell was rung, and Ellen the nurse appeared.