Susan and Mamie and Lillian and Marjorie were always close friends. They
usually went together and played together and it was very unusual to see
one of them without the others. At school they always made it a rule to
lunch together and play together. One day at recess they were standing
in a little group all by themselves when Frances joined them.
[Illustration: “FRANCES.”]
“What are you talking about, girls?” asked Frances in cheerful tones.
“I’m telling them a secret,” said Susie, “and we will let you know, too,
Frances, if you’ll promise not to tell any one.”
“I’ll promise you not to tell anybody but my mother,” said Frances, “for
I have made it a rule to tell my mother everything.”
“No; you can’t even tell your mother,” answered Susie; “you must not
tell any one in the world.”
“Well, then, I refuse to hear it,” said Frances, as she walked away,
“for what I can’t tell my mother is not fit for me to know.”
Don’t you think Frances was right, girls? I think so. As soon as little
boys and girls begin to listen to words and stories which they would be
ashamed to repeat to their mothers they are on the road to temptation,
and nobody can tell how soon they will reach the end, which is always
disgrace and death.
I wish all the boys and girls who will read this book would make the
reply of Frances their motto: “What I cannot tell my mother is not fit
to know.” Stick to this rule through thick and thin, and you will avoid
many of the snares and pitfalls by which many of your companions and
playmates sink into shame and sin. Don’t read a note that you would be
afraid to have your mother read. Don’t look at a picture that you would
be ashamed to have your mother see. Don’t speak any word, and don’t
allow any to be spoken to you, that you would not like to have your
mother hear. A girl’s best friend is her mother. A boy’s best friend is
his mother. And, boys and girls, be very sure that if a thing isn’t fit
for your mothers to know it isn’t fit for you to know.