“A towel,” said Wallace.
“Well,” said Phonny, “go on.”
“The boy took the flat-iron and went to work,” continued Wallace. “Presently, however, he thought he would go out into the shed and see if the snow had blown in, during the night. He found that it had, and so he stopped to play with the drift a few minutes. At last he came back into the kitchen, and he found, when he came in, that Dorothy had finished ironing his towel and had put it away. He began to complain of her for doing this, and then, in order to punish her, as he said, he took two of her flat-irons and ran off with them, and put them into the snow drift.”
“Yes,” said Phonny, “that was me. But then I only did it for fun.”
“Was the fun for yourself or for Dorothy?” asked Wallace.
“Why, for me,” said Phonny.
“And it made only trouble for Dorothy,” said Wallace.
“Yes,” said Phonny, “I suppose it did.”
“That is the kind of boyishness I mean,” said Wallace, “getting fun for yourself at other people’s expense; and so making them dislike you, and feel sorry when they see you coming, and glad when you go away.”
Phonny was silent. He saw the folly of such a course of proceeding, and had nothing to say.