Chimborazo hastened to say, “Sausages, please, mamma,”—that is, he hastened to try to say it; but all his mother heard was, “Oh, dear!”
His father looked much displeased. “Give the boy some bread and water, wife,” he said sternly. “If he cannot answer properly, he must be taught. I have had enough of this ‘oh, dear!’ business.”
Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly enough now what his punishment was to be; and the thought of it made him tremble. He tried to ask for some more bread, but only brought out his “Oh, dear!” in such a lamentable tone that his father ordered him to leave the room. He went out into the garden, and there he met John the gardener, carrying a basket of rosy apples. Oh! how good they looked!
“I am bringing some of the finest apples up to the house, little master,” said John. “Will you have one to put in your pocket?”
“Oh, dear!” was all the poor boy could say, though he wanted an apple, oh, so much! And when John heard that he put the apple back in his basket, muttering something about ungrateful monkeys.
Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the whole history of that miserable day,—a miserable day it was from beginning to end. He fared no better at dinner than at breakfast; for at the second “Oh, dear!” his father sent him up to his room, “to stay there until he knew how to take what was given him, and be thankful for it.” He knew well enough by this time; but he could not tell his father so. He went to his room, and sat looking out of the window, a hungry and miserable boy.
In the afternoon his cousin Will came up to see him. “Why, Chimbo!” he cried. “Why do you sit moping here in the house, when all the boys are out? Come and play marbles with me on the piazza. Ned and Harry are out there waiting for you. Come on!”
“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo.
“What’s the matter?” asked Will. “Haven’t you any marbles? Never mind. I’ll give you half of mine, if you like. Come!”