I stood up.
“My child,” he said, “when you had been guilty of some fault at home, who was the first to punish you—your father, or your mother?”
After a few moments hesitation I answered, “My father.”
“You have answered correctly, my child,” said the priest. “As a matter of fact, the father is almost always more impatient with his children, and more ready to punish them, than the mother.”
“Now, my child, tell us who punished you most severely—your father or your mother?”
“My father,” I said, without hesitation.
“Still true, my child. The superior goodness of a kind mother is perceived even in the act of correction. Her blows are lighter than those of the father. Further, when you had deserved to be chastised, did not one sometimes come between you and your father’s rod, taking it away from him and pacifying him?”
“Yes,” I said; “mother did that very often, and saved me from severe punishment more than once.”
“That is so, my child, not only for you, but for all your companions here. Have not your good mothers, my children, often saved you from your fathers’ corrections even when you deserved it? Answer me.”
“Yes, sir,” they all answered.