“If you had,” replied the boy, with a bold and defiant expression, “I know very well what I would do. I would not go away. I would remain here, even if my papa ordered me to go. But for this once I could not be obedient, although I should be scolded for it.”
“And what effect would your remaining here have, Alexander?” asked the king.
“It would have this effect, your majesty,” replied the boy, gravely. “My dear mamma would then hear nothing that would make her feel sad, or perhaps even make her cry.”
“But if I should tell her something in your presence that would make her feel sad?”
“That you will not do, papa!” cried Alexander, erecting himself proudly. “No, while I am here you will certainly not make my mamma sad; for you know that I would cry too, if my mamma cried, and you certainly could not bear to see your poor little son and his mamma weeping bitterly.”
“You love your mamma very much, I suppose?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the boy, throwing his arms around his mother’s neck, and laying his curly head on her bosom; “yes, I love my mamma very dearly; and my heart almost breaks when I see her cry. And she cries very often now, and—”
“Go, Alexander,” said his mother, interrupting him. “You see your sister is an obedient daughter, and has already obeyed her father’s command. Follow her now, my son; learn from your sister to obey your father without murmuring.”
“Yes, my son, follow your sister,” said the king, gently. “Fear nothing, my boy, I have no intention of making your mother feel sad.”
“Then I will go, papa,” cried Alexander, as he pressed his father’s hand tenderly to his lips. He then skipped joyfully out of the room.