Mothers

The public-spirited lady met the little boy on the street. Something about his appearance halted her. She stared at him in her near-sighted way.

THE LADY—"Little boy, haven't you any home?"

THE LITTLE BOY—"Oh, yes'm; I've got a home."

THE LADY—"And loving parents?"

THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm."

THE LADY—"I'm afraid you do not know what love really is. Do your parents look after your moral welfare?"

THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm."

THE LADY—"Are they bringing you up to be a good and helpful citizen?"

THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm."

THE LADY—"Will you ask your mother to come and hear me talk on 'When Does a Mother's Duty to Her Child Begin?' next Saturday afternoon, at three o'clock, at Lyceum Hall?"

THE LITTLE BOY (explosively)—"What's th' matter with you ma! Don't you know me? I'm your little boy!"


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