In a few minutes, Rollo’s mother came down stairs to see what was the matter. Rollo thought that his mother might suppose that he had hurt Nathan, and so he began to explain at once how it happened. But his mother held up her hand to him, as a signal for him to be silent. She knew that it was then no time to ascertain the facts.
She came up and looked at Nathan’s forehead a moment, and she saw that it was not much hurt. Besides, she knew, by the sound of Nathan’s cries, that they did not proceed from much pain. She therefore said to him, gently,
“Stop crying, Nathan!”
Now Nathan knew that his mother did not tell him not to cry, except when she was sure that he could control himself if he chose to do so; and he also knew that she punished him if he did not obey. So he began immediately to repress his sobs and cries, and very soon became still. She then put a small plaster, of some sort, upon his forehead, and then carried him up stairs and laid him on the bed.
“There,” said she, “Thanny, lie still there a little while, till your forehead has done aching, and you get pleasant again; then you may get up, and come to me.”
Then she went to her work again, and Rollo came and stood by her side, and told her the whole story.
“Nathan did wrong,” said she; “but it would have been better for you not to have run after him.”
“Why, mother,” said Rollo, “he was running away with my knife; and I can’t split at all without my knife. One thing I know,—I shall not let him split any more with my beetle and wedges.”
“That would be one way to treat him,” said his mother; “but there is another thing you might do, if you chose.”