"Who would think there was a dirty old ditch like that by the side of the road!" Theodore exclaimed vexedly. "It ought to be filled in!"
"I am most, thankful you are not hurt," his stepmother told him. "You might have been injured, and the poor lamb too."
Mr. Fry was disappearing from sight with the lamb in his arms, anxious to get the little thing dried and fed. Theodore looked after him ruefully.
"I don't know what he'll think of me," he said in a regretful tone. "He told me to be careful, too!"
"Come, Theodore, get up at once!" his father interposed sharply. "Are you going to sit there in your wet clothes all day?"
Theodore arose with a shiver, and slowly turned towards the farm. He looked a pitiable object indeed, and he hung his head dejectedly. Jack walked by his side, offering words of consolation, and wondering what Jane would say when she saw her young master's deplorable condition.
But for once Jane refrained from scolding. She saw Theodore was smarting under a sense of the indignity of his fall, and merely recommended a good wash and a change of clothing.
When Theodore appeared at the breakfast-table he was in a subdued frame of mind. His father asked him how he had enjoyed his mud-bath, and seemed inclined to make a joke of his late experience. The little boy was grateful that his stepmother did not join in the laugh against him, but, on the contrary, tried to turn the conversation into another channel. After the meal was over she drew him aside, and told him that she had been to the kitchen herself, and ascertained that the lamb was no worse for the accident. Mrs. Fry had dried it by the fire, and fed it with warm milk.
"Is Mr. Fry very angry with me?" Theodore asked anxiously.
"No, not angry at all. But you must learn to be more careful, my dear; you are too impetuous. You must listen to what others say, especially when they are older and wiser than yourself. Mr. Fry told me he had desired you to walk quietly."