"A Paragon is some one who is very good, indeed,—better than anybody else," said the Mother.
"Are you a Paragon?" Take asked her Mother.
"Oh, no," cried the Mother. "I am a most unworthy creature as compared with a Paragon."
"Then there aren't any such things," said Take, "because nobody could be better than you!"
The Mother laughed. "Wait until I tell you about the Paragons.
Then you'll see how very, very good they were," she said.
"Once there was a Paragon. He was only a little boy, but he was so good to his parents! Oh, you can't think how good he was! He was only six years old. He was a beautiful child, with a tender, fine skin and bright eyes. He lived with his parents in a little town among the rice-fields. The fields were so wet in the spring that there were millions and millions of mosquitoes around their home. Everybody was nearly bitten to death by them. The little boy saw how miserable and unhappy his parents were from the mosquito-bites. He could not bear to see his dear parents suffer; so every night he lay naked on his mat so the mosquitoes would find his tender skin and bite him first, and spare his father and mother."
"Oh, my!" said Take. "How brave that was! I don't like mosquito-bites a bit!"
"You don't like beetle-bites any better, do you?" Taro said.
"Well," said Take, "I'd rather the beetle should bite me than
Mother."
"Well, now, maybe you'll be a Paragon yourself sometime," the
Mother said.