Master Tommy began to cry at this intelligence. Juno appeared with the turtle-soup; and Tommy cried louder when they had said grace and commenced their dinner. They were all very hungry, and William sent his plate for another portion, which he had not commenced long before he put his finger in his mouth and pulled out something.
“Why, mother, here’s the thimble in my soup,” cried William.
“No wonder he said he would find it by and by,” said Ready, smiling; “he meant to have fished it up, I suppose, from what was left of the soup after dinner. Well, Mrs Seagrave, I don’t mean to say that Tommy is a good boy, but still, although he would not tell where the thimble was, he has not told a falsehood about it.”
“No, he has not,” replied William. “I think, now that the thimble is found, if he begs pardon, papa will forgive him.”
“Tommy, come here,” said Mr Seagrave. “Tell me why you put that thimble into the soup?”
“I wanted to taste the soup. I wanted to fill the thimble; the soup burnt my fingers, and I let the thimble drop in.”
“Well, a thimbleful wasn’t much, at all events,” observed Ready. “And why didn’t you tell your mamma where the thimble was?”
“I was afraid mamma throw all the soup away, and then I get none for dinner.”
“Oh! that was it, was it? Well, sir, I said you should have no dinner till the thimble was found, so, as it is found, you may have your dinner; but if you ever refuse to answer a question again, I shall punish you more severely.”
Tommy was glad the lecture was over, and more glad to get his turtle-soup; he finished one plate, and, as he asked for another, he said, “Tommy won’t put thimble in again; put tin pot in next time.”