"Do be quiet, Charlie!" "Leave off talking!" "Silence, sir!" These words
were addressed to Charlie in vain, whether at home or school. He talked
at meals, at class, in church; his little tongue was always at work, and
yet it never seemed weary. Even if his mother had a headache, Charlie
rattled on; if his father wanted to read or write quietly he had to go
apart from Charlie, for there was no peace in the presence of the
chatterbox. Of course he was a dunce, for how could he chatter and learn
as well? And you may be sure he made plenty of mischief, for tongues
that are always on the move do not keep to the exact truth sometimes
when repeating what the ears have heard.
One day Grandfather said, "I really must teach that little tongue a
lesson. If you can be silent for half an hour, Charlie, I will give you
half-a-dollar." "Half-a-dollar! I'll earn it, grandfather." Charlie
watched the clock and thought of tops and balls and kites and sweets and
apples, and all the wonderful things half-a-dollar would buy; he had to
keep silence till the clock had struck twelve, and just as the hand
approached the hour he grew so excited with his success that he cried
out, "There, I've done it! Please give me the money, grandfather." But
Charlie never got that half-dollar, and I do not think such a chatterbox
_deserved_ it. You have two ears and one tongue, children; listen
quietly, pay attention, but do not always make your voice to be heard,
else other people may grow just a little tired of the sound.
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