Should David accept the remainder of the man's apple? No, that would not be right; little boys must not be greedy. Just the teeniest, weeniest, wee bite would be quite sufficient for him.
But, heigh-ho and alack-aday! the dirty-faced man and the red-nosed man and the man with the greasy hat passed slouchily on, a-munching and a-crunching of his apple.
That was enough. David cast himself down from the fence-post of deception and was off for the house, his arm before his eyes, and his new shoes creaking dolorously. He must find refuge in Mother's lap; she must help him to soothe away his hurt; he must have solace for this wretched failure of great hopes.
But before reaching her, David suddenly found himself seized by some mysterious force which sent him floating into space. Back and forth he swam like, a pendulum, and when he alighted, it was on a man's shoulder, and the man was Dr. Redfield.
"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked.
David would not be comforted. He struggled to the ground.
"What's the use?" he demanded between sobs. "What's the use of being four years old?"