when molly came home from the party to-night—

the party was out at nine—

there were traces of tears in her bright blue eyes,

that looked mournfully up to mine.

for some one had said, she whispered to me,

with her face on my shoulder hid,

some one had said (there were sobs in her voice)

that they didn’t like something she did.

so i took my little girl up on my knee—

i am old and exceedingly wise—

and i said, “my dear, now listen to me;

just listen and dry your eyes.

“this world is a difficult world, indeed,

and people are hard to suit,

and the man who plays on the violin

is a bore to the man with the flute.

“and i myself have often thought

how very much better ’twould be,

if every one of the folks that i know

would only agree with me.

“but, since they will not, the very best way

to make this world look bright

is never to mind what the people say,

but to do what you think is right.”