“No,” said Alfred; “only I don’t like to stop if I have anything else to do.”
“I hate,” Marian said, “to be told to do anything which I don’t want to do, and for which I see no reason: going to see people whom I dislike, and who bore me, for instance.”
“There,” I answered, “the reason is clear. I remember feeling so myself, and I am not glad that I was given my own way. Young people must know and see and tolerate all sorts of folks, even pokey old relations, so that they may learn to know people and be able to choose for themselves as they grow older. To know many is to find some.”
With that they agreed.
“But,” I went on, “the trouble is not so much with what you want or don’t want to do, as with irritability and impudence.”
“You mean ‘sassing’ your parents?” asked Virginia.
“Yes.”
“I ‘sass’ mine,” she said, “when I think they will like it. I wheedle my parents, and so I get what I want without being disagreeable.”
“Oh, you don’t count, Virginia,” I went on, “but what I mean is answering back, being unkind and contradictory when we would rather not, doing all sorts of regrettable things because we are in a temper, and then afterward feeling mean, sore and despicable, and knowing that we were wrong. That sort of ugliness and irritation, if it’s not stopped, makes mean, ugly, irritable characters.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Marian, “and I know exactly what I think of other people who are like that.”