After he was gone, Judge Pitcher took Pollio in his lap and tried to soothe him; while the children clustered around, all talking together.
“It seems queer,” said Teddy, “that his legs won’t go, just because his back is hurt. But I suppose the bones are all hitched together somehow.”
“Wish the doctor’d unhitch ’em,” groaned Pollio. “Oh, dear! I’m tired of being hitched.”
“We hope this won’t last long, my son: you will get over it by and by, and run as fast as ever,” said his father. “Won’t you try to be patient for a little while?”
“I don’t want to be patient!” cried Pollio, swinging his arms. “I hate to awfully!”
Posy came then, and threw both her little arms about his neck, as if to say, “I’ll help you bear it, my Pollio.”
Mamma was going to help him too: you could see that by the tender smile on her face. Her heart ached for her darling boy, but she would not let him know it: she would always smile whenever she possibly could.
The first day was pretty long. If you don’t believe it, just shove yourself about on the floor for half an hour, and see how it seems.