frowned and said, “Hold your shoul ders back.” Then it began all over again in the afternoon. As I came up the street, I saw you playing in the dirt. There were holes iij your good clothes —-and I humiliated you before your friends. I made you march in the house; and I said “Clothes are expensive — and if you had to buy them you would be more careful.” Do you remember later when I was reading, how you came in timidly with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up ov'.r my paper, impatient at the interrup tion, you hesitated at the door . “What is it you want now?” I snapped. You said nothing, but ran across the room and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me. And your little arms tightened with an affection that God set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pat tering to your room. Well, Son, it was shortly afterward
L isten , S on , I’m saying this to you as you lie asleep, one hand crum pled under your cheek. Your forehead is a little damp and dirty. I’ve stolen into your room alone. Just a few min utes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the living room, a wave of remorse and shame crept over me. So I came to your bedside to ask your forgive ness. These are the things I was thinking 5 on — i had a tough day at the office; I was cross. I scolded you as you dressed for school because you gave your face a dab with the water, and left all the dirt on the towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your teeth. I called out angrily when you left some of your things on the floor. At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things; you put your elbows on the table; you wouldn’t sit erect in your chair. As you started off to play you turned and waved a little hand and called, “Good-by Daddy! I
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