The Finding of a Lost Temper.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 3, 21 July 1906, Page 57

The Finding of a Lost Temper.

Father. Mother, and the children a ere ready t o go to the Zoo. 1 hey were standing in the hall while Mother was just finally adjusting Percy’s nat. Something was wrong with the elastic, so she took it off to improve matters. When the hat was replaced on the little boy’s head the elastic slipped from Mother’s fingers just as she was putting it under his chin. Consequently, Percy’s chin felt very much as if it had been pinched. He gave a sudden roar, stamped his feet and clenched his little hands in the way that some passionate little boys have when anything happens that they don’t like. ‘•Hush! hush!” said Mother. “You should have stood still, Percy, whilst I put your hat on. I have so often spoken to you about being so fidgety.” But Percy, who was little more than five, still continued to scream. He lay on his back and kicked. Dressing to go out had been a very troublesome job that day. At all times a very nervous and highly-strung child, he was quite over-excited by the idea of going to the Zoo fo the first time in his very short life. The sharp sting of the contracting elastic had come as a climax, and to relieve his feelings he lay and kicked and screamed. Mother was very sorry for her little boy, and tried to pacify him with soft words. Had there been more time she would probably have succeeded, but there was a train to catch, and Father was anxious to be off. "Come now!” said the latter sternly. “Stop that noise at once!” But Percy could not stop if he wished it. He had reached the stage when passion cannot be suddenly checked. "He must stay behind,” said Father very decidedly at last. "Let him stay in the nursery alone, and tell Annie to give him some tea when the time comes. He must be taught to control himself. He is always losing his temper for the slightest trifle. It is time it was stopped.” Very sorowfully Mother picked up her little boy and led him into the nursery. He was sobbing now, and she placed him on a very big old grandfather's chair by the window in the nursery. He looked such a little picture of misery that she put her arms round him and gently 7 soothed him. “You really must try not to lose your temper so often,” she said gently, and then with a kiss on his wet cheeks ran suddenly away as Father's voice was heard calling in the hall. “Don’t you think he might come?” she whispered so that the other children should not hear. “No, no, he wants a severe lesson to teach him not to give way to those sudden outbursts of passion. Let him stay where he is; he will have time to think. Come quickly now, or we shall never catch that train.” There was no more time to waste, and very unhappily Mother passed out of the front door, leaving her little black sheep behind. It was quite true that it really was time that Percy should be taught to control his temper, which was at times very violent. But the remembrance of her little sobbing boy spoilt all Mother’s pleasure for that afternoon. She did her best to be cheerful for the sake of Elsie and Harold and their little cousin Kitty, who was staying with them for a holiday. For them that visit to the zoo was a red-letter day in their lives. They saw the lions fed, inspected the snakes and monkeys, fed the bears with buns, and rode on the back of Jumbo’s successor. Meanwhile, Percy remained on the big chair where his mother had put him. His sobs started afresh when he heard the big front door bang, but after a while they grew less and less, and he became a little calmer. He eoiled himself round like a cat in the huge grandfather’s chair, gave his eyes one final mop with his very wet handkerchief, and said right out loud: “I wonder where my temper is? I am always losing my temper, Daddy said.” Just then the cuckoo popped its head out of a clock on the wall opposite, and said “cuckoo,” “cuckoo,” “cuckoo,” three times. It was three o’clock. The little door of the clock shut with a snap, and Percy lay looking at the pendulum as it swung backwards and

forwards—tick-tack, tick-tack, tick-tack. He wondered all the time what sort of a thing his temper was, and where it had gone to. "Hullo!” said a voice. Percy started, rubbed his eyes, and looked round. The voice sounded so exactly like his own. On the arm of the chair, with his legs astride, sat a little boy, so exactly like himself, and so exactly in the manner he had often done, that Percy was quite dumb with amazement. But this little boy had no trace of tears on his face; he was all smiles and laughter, and sat there looking at Percy with an amused air as much as to say: “Well, and don’t you recognise me?” But he said nothing, and ~»nly smiled merrily. After some time Percy took courage to ask: “Where did you come from? I never heard the door open.” This latter remark seemed to tickle the boy very much. He laughed so much that the tears rolled down his eheeks. and he could not answer for mirth. Percy was discomfited. “I think you are very rude,” he said angrily. “Why don't you answer me when I speak to you ?” The merry boy took out his handkerchief. a nice, dry, clean one, but with exactly the same red border as Percy’s, and wiped his laughter tears away. “I beg your pardon,” he said politely. “The thought of my having to open a door was so strange. I never trouble about doors.” “Why, who are you?” asked Percy, his curiosity aroused yet more than before. “Guess!” said the merry boy. “You ought to be able to recognise me. Don’t you know anybody I am like?' Percy’s face got red all over. “You are just like me.” he stammered hesitatingly. “Ha, ha,” laughed the merry boy. “You are quite right. I am just like you. But I’m not you all the same. Oh, dear no, I’m not you; how could I be? Why, you've been crying, and your face is all dirty 7 with tears, and your nose is all red—and—and —oh, no —how could I be you?” Percy looked very shame-faced, and rubbed his face with his hand as if to obliterate the tear marks as the merry boy was speaking. “I never cry,” said the merry 7 boy. “1 am always laughing and happy, and if anything happens that I don't like, why. I just try not to think about it. and as soon as I can I laugh again. I feel so cheerful at times ” “Are you never unhappy?” interrupted Percy. “Don’t you ever feel cross and get into passions?” The merry boy shook his head. “No, never!” “Don’t you ever get punished, then?” said Percy. It seemed impossiblt to him that what this little boy said could be true. There was just a tinge of sadness in the merry boy’s voice as he answered: “Yes, very often.” “How ean that be?” asked Percy eagerly and curiously. “You say you are never cross and never lose y 7 our temper ” “Stop!” cried the merry boy suddenly. “I never said that. You asked me if I got into passions, but you never said anything about losing my temper.” “Well, it’s the same thing.” said Percy just a little petulantly. “It is and it isn’t,” answered the merry boy. “You see, I can’t exactly say I lose my temper, but sometimes I get lost.” “Get lost?” Percy was getting more and more puzzled. , “Yes, my little master loses me sometimes, and that is my punishment.” “Who is your master?” Percy asked. “A little boy—just like me.” Percy flushed all over; the truth was beginning to dawn on him. “Why. I believe you are my temper!” he cried excitedly. Laughing triumphantly. he jumped up, when a hand touched him on the shoulder, and another voice sounded in his ear—- “ Wake up now. Master Percy, it’s tea-time!” And he woke up to find Annie the maid standing by his side. “I thought I was never going to wake you,” she cried. “You must have been dreaming.” “Dreaming! Why, of course I have not,” he answered gaily. “I’ve found my temper, Annie; such a dear little boy—just like me!”

Which naive remark Annie repeated to Percy's mother when she came back. It was quite a long time after this liefore Percy lost his temper again. He Lad only to think of the merry little boy sitting astride on the arm of

the grandfather’s ehair, and a smile would come into his face. His father and mother were both so pleaaed at this improvement, that one line afternoon they arranged another excursion to the Zoo.—Agnes Gibbs.