The Golden Rule by Madeline Leslie

THE next day, Mr. Bryant walked into a large bookstore in the city where he lived. There were shelves of books for men and women, and shelves for children, filled with prettily bound volumes.

Mr. Bryant was not a stranger in the store, and he walked at once to this part of the room. The clerk knew him, and asked,-

"What can I sell you, sir?"

"I want a book about animals," the gentleman answered; "something that will be useful and interesting for a child of eight years."

The clerk took down a neat box, saying,-

"There is just the thing for you, sir. There are six volumes full of anecdotes of the dog, cat, horse, sheep, etc., besides a natural history of the animals."

"Capital! Let me see," taking out his watch; "yes, I have fifteen minutes, and I'll examine them."

He sat down on a high stool, and the clerk laughed as he saw him sitting there an hour after. Then the gentleman rose in a great hurry, saying, as he paid for the books,-

"I'm afraid your dog stories have made me lose a valuable customer. I quite forgot how the time was passing."

Mrs. Bryant did not forget Charley. She often told her daughter Ida about the little fellow. She also told her of Oscar Russel, though at that time she did not know his name, and how much better it was to be polite like Charley, than rude like Oscar.

"I want to see Tarley," lisped Ida; "I love dood boys."

In a few weeks, Mr. Bryant told his wife he had ordered a horse for a ride into the country, and should take the opportunity to make a call on their polite friend.

"May I do, too, papa? " eagerly asked Ida.

"Yes, dear. Don't forget to put in the books, wife."

When they came in sight of the house, Abel was at work on the sidewalk. He had finished the avenue, and it looked very nice, indeed; but Charley was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Bryant gave his wife the reins, got out, and went through the gate to the front door. This was wide open; and, as he put up his hand to ring the bell, he heard the sound of a child's voice crying, up the stairs.

"Is Charley Monson at home? " he asked of the girl who came to answer his ring.

"Yes, sir; but he is in bed. I'll call his mother, sir."

She showed him to the parlor, and presently a lady, with the very brightest of blue eyes, came down the stairs into the room.

Mr. Bryant told her he was Charley's friend, and was very sorry to hear of his illness. "I told my little girl how polite he was, and she is very anxious to see him."