A SORRY PLIGHT.
"Rollo," she said in her coldest tone, "you may go at once to Hannah and have her put your every-day suit on, then you may go to my room and stay until I return."
"But, mamma," said Rollo, his face in a quiver, his lips trembling so that he could hardly speak.
But she passed him on the stairs without a word.
He called after her:
"Mamma, oh, mamma! Won't you please to listen to me?"
Then she said.
"Rollo, you may obey me immediately, and I do not wish to hear a word."
In a very few minutes after that the carriage rolled away, stopped at Mrs. Merrivale's and took up Helen and her mother, then on to the park.
You needn't suppose Rollo's mother enjoyed it. She seemed to care nothing for the park; she hardly glanced at the swans, and did not go near the monkeys. All the time she missed a happy little face and eager voice that she had expected to have with her. Miss Helen Merrivale was another disappointed one. Had not she and Rollo planned together this ride to the park? Now, all she could learn from his mother was that Rollo was detained at the last minute. She did not intend to tell the Merrivales that her careless little boy seemed to grow more careless every day; and how she felt that she must shut her ears to his pitiful little explanations, which would amount to nothing more than he "didn't mean to at all," and was "so sorry."
The mother believed that she had done right nevertheless she was lonely and sad. They came home earlier than they had intended. As they passed Mrs. Sullivan's pretty cottage she was standing at the gate with Mamie in her arms, and out she came to speak to them.
"You haven't the dear little fellow with you," she said eagerly, her lips trembling. "I wanted to kiss him, the darling, brave boy. O, Mrs. Grey, I hope and trust that he did not get hurt in any way?"
"Who?" said Mrs. Grey wonderingly. "My Rollo! Oh, no, he isn't hurt. Why? Did you hear of any accident?"
"Didn't he tell you? Didn't anybody tell you? Why, Mrs. Grey, if it hadn't been for your brave little Rollo—I shiver and grow cold all over when I think where my baby would be now! She climbed into the boat; it was locked, but she tried to sit down at the farther end, and she lost her balance and pitched head first into the lake. Rollo saw her, your little Rollo, he was the only one around; and I don't know how he did it, and he such a little bit of a fellow. He climbed over the side of the boat and reached after her; he stepped right in that deep mud and got stuck, and the little man had sense enough to unbutton his shoe and leave it sticking there, and wade out after baby. He saved her, I'm sure I don't know how, nobody seems to know, but he tugged her out and laid her on the bank, all unconscious, you know, and we thought she was dead, but she is as well as ever, and O, Mrs. Grey, isn't there any thing I can do for the blessed boy?"
"John," said Mrs. Grey, "drive home as fast as possible."
Up the steps she ran, gave the bell a furious pull, and dashed past the little nurse-girl to her own room like a comet.
"Where is Rollo?" she said breathlessly to Hannah.
"He's asleep now, ma'am. He cried as though his heart would break, and was a long time getting, comforted; but finally I got him dressed and coaxed him to take a nap, and there's been half the town here this afternoon to inquire how he is."
She didn't believe in disturbing sleeping boys as a rule, but she picked this one right out of his bed and carried him, half smothered with kisses, to her rocking-chair, and sat down to laugh and cry over him and kiss him. Only half awake he was at last, still grasping the big orange that Hannah had given him, when mamma, giving him more kisses, said:
"Dear little brave boy, will you forgive mamma for all the sorrow of this afternoon?"
Then he rubbed his eyes and looked at her wonderingly, and patted her cheek, and said:
"You mean you will forgive me? You will, won't you? I truly didn't mean to get wet and dirty."
How many kisses do you suppose he had then? As for Mrs. Sullivan, she hasn't found enough yet to do for Rollo, though she keeps doing nice little things all the time.
[NOBLE AND TRICKSY.]
TWO dogs they were, and I am about to tell you a true story concerning them. Tricksy belonged to little Robbie Parker, and was one of the nicest dogs I ever knew. Robbie thought so; he came to his mother almost every night with a fresh story of the fellow's goodness.
"It is a pity he has such a dishonorable name," the mother said. "I don't like tricky people."
"O, mamma!" would Robbie say. "He is only a dog; but then I know he wouldn't do any thing mean."
In the course of time, Robbie's older brother Nelson, became the owner of the wickedest looking little dog that over yelped. If you want to know just how he looked, here is his picture.
What Nelson saw in the little wretch to please him, it would be hard to say; and of all things, he was named Noble!
If the names could have been turned about, and "Tricksy" given to him, I think it would have suited every one but Nelson.
He was a queer fellow, and certainly he had many tricks. Brave old Tricksy took kindly to him, and used to frolic with him in a dignified way, and whether it was that being with the little scamp so much he learned some of his ways or not, I do not know, but certain it is that the funny thing I am going to tell you, actually happened.
There was nothing that the little scamp named "Noble" liked better than to have a race with old Tricksy around the great trees on the lawn. Yes, perhaps there was one thing that he liked almost as well, and that was, to curl himself on a certain cushion that before he came, had been the large dog's special property.
So sure as the old dog left it for a minute to do an errand, or to attend to any of his duties, up the little scamp would jump and be in possession. Good old Tricksy stood it patiently a good many times, but at last one day he evidently thought out a way to manage the little new comer. It was just after a hearty dinner, and it was a chilly day, and a cosy nap on the warm cushion, I suppose, looked most inviting to both dogs. The little one was ahead, as usual, and the old dog sat clown by the stove to think about it. At last he got up, moved gravely towards the door leading to the lawn, then turned around to the little dog and said as plainly as dog-language would admit:
"Come on, then, if you want a race."
