“I really don’t know what to do with Jack,” his mother said on her return, taking up her sewing.
“Listen to this,” and Mr. Borden read from the paper an account of three boys who had managed to enter a grocery store and steal some quite valuable stock. Ages, seven, nine and ten.
“I’d rather bury Jack tomorrow than have such a thing published about him,” he said.
“And Jack used to be so nice,” returned his mother with a sigh.
“We’ve indulged him too much, and we have idealized childhood too much; we’ve laughed at his smart tricks and his saucy replies, and tried high moral suasion, but we must turn over a new leaf. When he is bad he must be punished severely enough 34 to make an impression. Are you sure of that girl, Marilla?”
“Yes. She’s truthful and so sweet to the babies. Bridget says she wouldn’t even touch a piece of cake without asking for it. But I think she does sometimes shield Jack. He has a nasty way of pinching and I do slap him for it. I’m afraid of his pinching the babies. But we never do leave him alone with them.”
“See here,” began Florence, “why not send him to Kindergarten. The new term is just beginning. I think boys ought to be with other boys. And those classes are made so entertaining. The many employments take a child’s mind off of mischief, and they are trained in manners. Oh dear! think, what a blessed time we should have!”
“I don’t know but it is a good idea,” said Jack’s father. “He will have to mix with children some time, and our training hasn’t proved such a brilliant success. Oh, I do want him to grow up a nice boy. But boys seem an awful risk now-a-days. I never knew so many youthful criminals.”
“I’d like to know who that woman was who 35 recognized Jack in the store. That mortifies me awfully.”
“And it will get told all over, I know,” returned Aunt Florence.