Short Story: Over The Porridge

Over The Porridge

They sat down to eat their porridge. The naughty little girl turned her back upon her sister, and put a large spoonful into her mouth.

"Oh—oh—oh!" she cried, "I have burnt my tongue."

"Eat it slowly," said the good little sister. She took up her porridge carefully, and after blowing it very gently, and waiting for a minute or two while it cooled, ate it, and found it very nice.

"I shall not eat mine until it is quite cold," said Totsey, getting cross.

"Then it will be nasty," said the good little sister, still going on with her own porridge.

"Oh, dear," said Totsey, "if I eat it too hot it burns me, and if I eat it too cold it's nasty. What shall I do?"

"Take it as I do mine," said the good little sister. "It is the right way."

"There are two wrong ways and only one right way; it isn't fair," sighed the naughty little girl. "And, oh! my porridge is so nasty." Then she asked, "Did you ever eat your porridge too hot and burn your tongue?"

"No," answered the good little sister; "I never ate my porridge too hot and burnt my tongue."

"Did you ever eat your porridge when it was quite cold and very nasty?"

"No," answered the good little sister again; "I never ate my porridge when it was quite cold and very nasty."

"Well, I have," said Totsey; "and so I know about two things that you do not know about." And the naughty little sister got up and walked away, and the good little sister sat still and thought about many things.