Tommy did not like to study, and he did like to command others. He wished every body to think that he was better than they, because he had been to New York, and because his father was rich.
Children are just like men and women. They always find out the really good boys and girls, and love and respect them. And they never think much of those who think too much of themselves.
When Tommy was eight years old, his father sent him to the village school. It was a public school, and it was the best in the town. He had learned his letters at home, and was able to read a very little.
At first he was pleased with the idea of going to school, and did not even tell his mother he would not go. He was very apt to say he would not do anything, when he was told to do it.
I am sorry to add that his parents were very much to blame, for he was an only child, and they did not like to cross him. They did not make him "mind," as all good parents ought to do, and as all good children are willing to do. He used to have his own way; and when he went to school, he hardly knew what it was to obey.
Miss Dale, the teacher, gave him a good seat, when he first went to school, and spoke very kindly to him. For two or three days he got along quite well. It was a new thing to him, and he was pleased with the school and the teacher.
But in a little while he was tired of the place, and of the teacher, and he had yet to learn that he could not always have his own way.
On the fourth day of his school-life, when Miss Dale called him up to read, he made up his mind that he would not read.
"I don't want to read," said he.
"Perhaps you don't, Thomas. Do you know what your father sends you to school for?" replied Miss Dale.