The morning being so fair, it had called to him, and even with his arms laden with good “light wood,” he could not resist the temptation to step out on the little porch to look at the lacy clouds winding over an azure sky, and the delicate scarfs of mist fluttering from the shoulders of the mountains. And then he saw just what papa bear and mamma bear and baby bear saw when they came back to their home. He saw Golden-locks, or rather Hazel-locks, asleep in the little couch. She was smiling as if she were dreaming of happy things, but for all of that she looked very worn and uncared for. The shoes that stood beside the cot had almost no soles to them, and the soiled white frock that lay tumbled at the foot of the bed, was a mere rag. Her long hair was uncared for, and the deep rings beneath her eyes were not all from fatigue.
“Well,” said he under his breath, “the poor little thrush—the little storm-blown thrush!”
And then he rushed away, because he felt a great need upon him, which was to tell his wife Barbara what had happened. It was nothing less than a pain to him to know anything that Barbara did not know. So he emptied his arms of the wood, and dashed back to the bedroom.
“Come!” he commanded. “Come!” His greenish eyes were shining with the loving light that was almost always to be seen in them, his face, as quick with expressions as an actor’s, was literally beaming, and he was gesticulating with his large hands. “Just come, mamma, quick,” he pleaded. “Please don’t stop to do your hair.”
“Me go too! Me go too!” piped the insistent, high-pitched voice of the young person in the cradle. So without more ado, the Rev. Absalom gathered his son in his arms, and the three Summers made an excursion to the back porch. There they stood—at least there two of them stood, and there the third, safe under his dad’s arm, wriggled—and looked at the little forlorn, sleeping beauty. Then, because Mrs. Barbara had a way of finding the right word, she sighed happily:
“How winsome!” And then “How forlorn!”
“Clean beat out,” agreed the Rev. Absalom. Barbara put a finger on her lips.
“Let her sleep,” she said. “She shall sleep as long as she can, and after that, we’ll see what’s to be done. Best lock the shed door, dear, so she can’t get away without our knowing it. She might be frightened, you know.”
Her husband smiled his broadest smile.
“I don’t believe she’d be very much frightened,” he said. “She’s got too much sense. Now, if I was lost, or had run away from home, I’d never have the sense to nose out a bed and get into it. Not I. I’d be lying out in the rain groaning and sighing.”