“Mother,” said he, “I am going to see if I can find out what’s become of Bruno.”
“I would rather that you would find out what’s become of your bowl,” said his mother.
“Why, mother,” said Lorenzo, “Bruno is worth a great deal more than the bowl.”
“That may be,” replied his mother, “but there is much less danger of his being lost.”
Lorenzo walked slowly away from the house, pondering with much perplexity the double loss he had incurred.
“I can not do any thing,” he said, “to get back the bowl, but I can look about for Bruno, and if I find him, that’s all I can do. I must leave it for father to decide what is to be done about the bowl, when he comes home.”
So Lorenzo came out from his father’s house, and after hesitating for some minutes which way to go, he was at length decided by seeing a boy coming across the fields at a distance with a fishing-pole on his shoulder.
“Perhaps that boy has seen him somewhere,” said he. “I’ll go and ask him. And, at any rate, I should like to know who the boy is, and whether he has caught any fish.”
The sheep. The geese.