I once knew a little girl whom most everybody praised for being polite. Whenever she met people away from home, or whenever there was company at her home, she was very polite to them. She would ask visitors to take the easiest chairs, she would bring a hassock for their feet, she would watch their comfort in every way. She said “Yes, sir,” and “No, Miss B.,” and “Excuse me,” and “I beg your pardon,” and all those polite things. One day when I was the visitor and had been treated very politely by the little girl, I happened to hear her mother ask her to raise the shade. A little while before, she had asked me, in the sweetest manner, if she should lower this same shade for me; but in answer to her mother’s request she frowned and did not move from her chair. Pretty soon her little brother came to her to be amused, but she pushed him away and said: “Go away, Harry, I can’t be bothered with you.” When her father came in tired at night, and asked her to get his slippers for him, she did it in a very ungracious manner.
Those who have something to say of this little girl may raise hands.
“She was not good to her father and mother.”
“Nor to little Harry.”
“She was polite to company.”
“But not to her own people.”
Why should we be polite to our home friends?
“Because they are kind to us, and love us.”
How should we be polite to them?
“We should look out for their comfort.”