I said: “It seems not much to expect of us, to understand our parents, who are so anxious for an understanding, and whom we love. After all, we do owe them something—when you consider that but for them we would not be here; and we are most of us rather glad that we are here.”
“Yes,” said Marian, “I would like to stay a while longer.”
Now we spoke of many things, many personal things, of quarrels and how to avoid them. Virginia amused us by saying people often quarreled with her, but she never quarreled with them.
Marian said: “If there’s one thing which makes people feel mean, angry, self-reproachful and small, it is to try to quarrel with some one who won’t be made angry.”
“Naturally,” I said, “they can’t help comparing themselves with the other person.”
“Yes,” said Florence, “I am always sorry and angry at myself when the other person keeps cool or is hurt. But when the other person gets angry, too, I feel as if I were right.”
“It’s an ugly thing to be angry,” I said; “it makes us so small, shuts us in.”
“How do you mean?” asked Marian.
“It cuts us off from that other person, makes it impossible to understand at least him, and so keeps us from completeness and harmony, actually robs us of part of ourself.”
Was it all the children’s fault, they asked, when children and parents failed to understand each other?