"The other night I was reading when my wife came and asked me to go upstairs and reprove the elder boy: Cyril, it appeared, would not say his prayers.

He had quarrelled with Vyvyan, and beaten him, and when he was shaken and told he must say his prayers, he would not kneel down, or ask God to make him a good boy.

Of course I had to go upstairs and see to it.

I took the chubby little fellow on my knee, and told him in a grave way that he had been very naughty; naughty to hit his younger brother, and naughty because he had given his mother pain.

He must kneel down at once, and ask God to forgive him and make him a good boy.
"'I was not naughty,' he pouted, 'it was Vyvyan; he was naughty.' "I explained to him that his temper was naughty, and that he must do as he was told.