GEORGE AND ALICK.
ell, you know, Annie, it is all very well to try to be kind to and help nice people—people whom you like. It is the nicest thing in the world to help you, Annie, because you are always so good, and kind, and gentle. But there are people to whom I never could be kind, let me try ever so much."
"But Georgie," his sister began.
He interrupted her with some impatience.
"Oh, I know what you are going to say. You always say that we ought to like everybody. But that is nonsense. Everybody is not likable, and I don't like people who are not likable, and I never shall, and never can."
"I did not mean to say that. I don't always say it; I don't think I ever said it," she answered quietly. "I know that one cannot like people who are not likable. But Georgie," (with much earnestness,) "I know, and you know, that it is God's will, that it is God's command, that we should be kind, and tender, and gentle, and pitiful to every one, whether we like them or not."
Yes, Georgie did know that. Often had he been reminded of it. But as this was a command he often broke, he did not like to think of it. He moved restlessly and impatiently on his chair, and said, with some fretfulness:—