When she found how stiff and sore he was, Violet burst into tears again, and wondered if the little queen in the carriage was any happier for doing all this mischief. Let us see.
Having taken care of her pet, the little girl looked to see if the carriage had gone; and though she was almost as blind as Toady, her eyes were so full of tears, she knew plainly enough by the sound that it was waiting still; for Alfred had thrown his book aside, and he and Narcissa were talking angrily.
"You're an ugly, envious thing," said Alfred. "That poor little girl had nothing on earth but those few flowers and a miserable toad; and you, who have every thing you want, could not rest till you had stolen these. If I were king, I'd send you to state's prison."
"And if you were a queen, what would you do to the girl in the carriage?" asked Narcissa's father of Violet; for the gentleman had returned from his walk, and coming quietly behind, had been watching her as she wept and watched over Toady, who seemed to be fast asleep.
"O, I would send her away to the end of the world, so I might never see her again. Do take her away," she pleaded.
"But she has done wrong; she had no more right to hurt your toad than you have to hurt my horses in the carriage there. Shall I not punish her?"
"It wouldn't do me any good," said Violet, mournfully. "Tell her she may have the flowers in welcome now. I don't care about them or any thing else if Toady must die."
"And why do you care about Toady?"
"About him?" asked Violet, shaking away the golden hair as she looked up wonderingly with her beautiful blue eyes,—"care about him? Why, did you ever see such a handsome toad? And then I have known him so long, and he hops about after me and lets me feed him; and now, now, when I come here in the morning, how lonesome I shall be, for he can't come hopping out from the grass any more, all wet with dew, and winking his round eyes, as if he'd say, 'Good morning.'"
The gentleman laughed, and then looked very sober, as he said,—