[In giving this, the speaker may find it well to add to the number of illustrations.]
“O dear! O dear! O dear!” cried Jack, “I do have such a hard time. Now mother won’t let me go coasting, and all because I have a little sore throat. As if a fellow could take more cold, exercising all the time. I do think I have the hardest time in the world!”
“Tut, tut, tut!” said Uncle John, who happened to hear this ridiculous statement. “Did you ever hear of Mr. Hodgkins, Jack?”
“Why, yes, of course, Uncle John. Why, I pass his house every day going to school.”
“Well, you know, then, Jack, for you have seen him at his window, that for forty years he has not been out of that room, and he has to be carried from his bed to his chair, and from his chair to his bed again. And yet he bears it all so patiently,—but then, to be sure, he well-may, for he can say to himself, ‘I haven’t the hardest time in the world; Jack has!’”
Jack looked confused.
“And then,” his uncle continued, “do you know Gertrude Wilson?”
“Gertrude Wilson, the girl who keeps the little candy shop? Why, I buy candy there out of my pocket money almost every week. Of course I know Gertrude Wilson.”
“Well, then you may have heard how Gertrude once lived in that fine stone house where judge Merriweather lives now, and how her father lost his health, and then his money, and then her mother died; and now they live in a mean little house, and Gertrude has a very hard time to support the family. But, as she hasn’t as hard a time as Jack, it’s no wonder that she is so patient through it all!”
“O Uncle John!” cried Jack, putting his hand on his uncle’s mouth, “you needn’t say a word more. I didn’t mean what I said,—or, rather I did mean it, but I didn’t think. Why, of course I know dozens and dozens of people who have a harder time than I ever had or ever thought of having.”
“Even if your mother won’t let you coast for fear of your making your throat worse?”
But Jack ran away, too much ashamed of himself to answer.