One evening Rollo was sitting on the floor by the side of the fire, playing with his blocks. He was trying to build a meeting-house. He could make the meeting-house very well, all except the steeple, but the steeple would tumble down.
Presently his father said,
“Rollo, you may put your blocks into the basket, and put the basket in its place, in the closet, and then come to me.”
Rollo obeyed.
Then Rollo’s father took him up into his lap, and took a little book out of his pocket. Rollo was glad. He thought he was going to look at some pictures. But he was disappointed.
He was disappointed; that is, he found there were no pictures in the book, and was sorry.
His father said,
“I suppose you thought there were pictures in this book.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo.
“There are none,” said his father; “I have not got this book to amuse you. I am going to have you learn to read out of it, and learning to read is hard work.”