Did you ever think that a person may be very selfish and very unselfish
at the same time? Ethel is very fond of making presents to her friends.
If Edith or Nannie admires a work-box, a book, or a pencil of hers, it
is at her service. She delights to surprise her school-mates with little
gifts, and often Mattie finds a bunch of violets on her desk, which have
come from Ethel's conservatory, or a great golden orange is added to
Sadie's luncheon, and it is sure to have been brought from Florida by
Ethel's Uncle Tom. Ethel is full of kind thoughts, and is as liberal and
generous as possible with things that cost her nothing. But still I do
not regard her as unselfish, and I will tell you why.
She is not the least bit obliging. If she is seated in her little rocker
by the south window, and mamma or auntie comes in, ever so tired, it
does not occur to Ethel to offer her chair, that either of the ladies
may rest. Indeed, if you hint it to her, she shakes her head and says,
"There are plenty of chairs in the room; why should I give up mine?" Not
long since Cousin Polly and little Agnes Lee arrived unexpectedly, and
as there were other guests in the house, mamma was compelled to ask
Ethel to give up her pretty room, and sleep for the night with her
younger sister. Would you believe it, Ethel was so vexed that she pouted
and sulked in Cousin Polly's face, would take no notice of the child,
and finally cried herself to sleep? Not one of the family ever dreams of
asking Ethel to run up stairs or down on an errand, to mend a ripped
glove, to carry a message, or to do the slightest thing which will put
her out of her usual way. They know that she is not an obliging girl,
and, strangely enough, the very school-mates who accept her flowers and
oranges, are much more fond of Mary Ann, a plain, dumpy little body, who
never has anything to give away, but who is always greeting everybody
with kind looks and words, and who, wherever she goes, is helping along.