“‘At home,’ I answered, ‘I was always taught to say “thank you” for every civility. I think it is much pleasanter to do so. Wont you try it?’
“They began at once, in mockery, to pass each other cake and cheese, laughing rudely as they repeated the words, ‘thank you.’ I was never so much disgusted, and must confess, that before we left the supper-table, I felt somewhat as Frederick did when Mrs. Perry treated his kindness so coolly.”
“How long did you have to stay there, ma?”
“Two days. I was never so homesick. The mother was a hardworking woman, toiling from morning to night for her family. One evening she sat up till midnight finishing a pair of mittens for her oldest son. She told him of this the next morning; but he did not express one word of gratitude. He only said,—
“‘You might have finished them earlier if you’d been a mind to!’”
“I would have snatched them right away,” exclaimed Hatty.
“His mother had never taught him to be grateful. She did not seem to expect any thanks; but when he had left the room she sighed heavily as she said,—
“‘It’s hard to please children, do what you will.’”
“Is that the story you promised us, ma?” inquired Frederick.
“No, dear; I happened to think of that visit, when you said you loved to do anything for your sister because she thanks you so heartily.”