When Mrs. Schroder, then, refused these kindly offers, because she knew that her husband had wished his boys should be brought up together and in America, and because she could not separate them from each other or from herself, the relations thought best to leave her to her own will, and drew back, feeling that they had done their part for humanity and kinship.  Now and then Mrs. Schroder received a present of a worn shawl or a bonnet out of date, and one New Year there came inclosed a dollar-bill apiece for the boys.  Ernest threw his into the fire before his mother could stop him, while Harry said he would spend his for the very meanest thing he could think of; and that very night he bought some sausages with it, to satisfy, as he said, only their lowest wants.

Mrs. Schroder succeeded in carrying out her will, in spite of prophecy.  Her very delicacy of body led her to husband her strength, while the boys very early learned that they must help their mother to get through her day’s work.  Her feebleness of health helped her, too, in another way,—­by stopping their boy-quarrels.

“Boys, don’t wrangle so!  If you knew how it makes my head ache!”

When these words came from the mother resting in her chair, the quarrel ceased suddenly.  It ended without settlement, to be sure, which is the best way of finishing up quarrels.  There are always seeds of new wars sown in treaties of peace.  Austria is not content with her share of Poland, and Russia privately determines upon another bite of Turkey.  John thinks it very unjust that he must give up his ball to Tom, and resolves to have the matter out when they get down into the street; while Tom, equally dissatisfied, feels that he has been treated like a baby, and despises the umpire for the partial decision.

These two boys, indeed, had their perpetual quarrel.  Harry, the older, always got on in the world.  He had a strong arm, a jolly face, and a solid opinion of himself that made its way without his asking for it.  Ernest, on the other hand, was obliged to be constantly dependent on his brother for defence, for his position with other boys at school,—­as he grew up, for his position in life, even.  Harry was the favorite always.  The schoolmaster—­or teacher, as we call him nowadays—­liked Harry best, although he was always in scrapes, and often behindhand in his studies, while Ernest was punctual, quiet, and always knew his lessons, though his eyes looked dreamily through his books rather than into them.

Harry had great respect for Ernest’s talent, made way for it, would willingly work for him.  Ernest accepted these benefits:  he could not help it, they were so generously offered.  But the consciousness that he could not live without them weighed him down and made him moody.  He alternately reproached himself for his ingratitude, and his brother for his favors.  Sometimes he called himself a slave for being willing to accept them; at other times he would blame himself as a tyrant for making such demands upon an elder brother.