“I do not need it. These two will keep over.”
“Oh, yes! Keep over, of course. Well, just as you like. But I say, let to-morrow take care of itself. ‘Hi diddle diddle, the cat’s in the fiddle, the cow——’ No, that’s all nonsense; the animal couldn’t do it, but I could. There, now, what do people have foot-stools lying about loose for. One step more, and the only gentleman of this family would have been full length at your feet. Mother!”
The boy sprung to his mother, and kneeling before her, pulled down the hand she had lifted to her face, and kissed it tenderly.
“Oh, mother! I thought nothing could make you cry.”
“I am growing childish, James; sickness weakens one so,” answered the woman, who was usually firm as iron. “Besides, gratitude brings tears easy.”
“Yes,” said Ruth, thoughtfully; “for rain, there must be some warmth; the cold, bitter days only bring down hail and sleet.”
“Tell us,” said the mother, wiping her eyes, “where did you get these?”
“From Mrs. Smith, mother. Isn’t she splendid?”
“But you did not ask her again?”
“Yes, I did; not for them, but to let me work for something to keep us alive; so these apples were handy, you see, and I’m going lots of errands—never you fear!”