“I’ve burst it. I’ve burst it,” he sobbed.
“Your drum,” asked his mother. “How did you do that?”
“I was beating it with the poker and the tongs and—”
“With the poker and tongs!” exclaimed his mother. “Why, where were your drum-sticks?”
Then Roger stopped crying, and hung his head with shame.
“Where are your drum-sticks?” asked his mother, again.
“I—I—don’t know,” sobbed Roger.
“Have you lost those, too?” said Mrs. Bertram. She needed no words for answer. Roger’s manner was quite enough. “You know, dear, what I said would happen the next time you lost anything.”
“Yes,” said Roger, “I you said I must give away all my toys to some little boys who would take care of them.”
“Yes,” said his mother. “I see you remember. I shall send them all to-night to the Children’s Hospital.”