"Oh! I wish I had somebody to play with!"
At length, after sitting by the window and looking out for a long time, he turned to his mother, and said—
"Mother, can't I go and see Emily Winters?"
"No, Andrew, of course not," replied Mrs. Howland.
"Why, mother? I like her, and she's good."
"Because your father doesn't wish you go to her house. Didn't he punish you last evening for going there?"
At this the child grew impatient, and threw himself about with angry gestures. Then he sat down and cried for a time bitterly, while his mother strove, but in vain, to soothe him. For hours his thoughts had been on his little friend, and now he cared for nothing but to see her. Denied this privilege from mere arbitrary authority, his mind had become fretted beyond his weak ability to control himself.
It was, perhaps, an hour after this, that Mrs. Howland missed Andrew, and fearful that he might have been tempted to disobey the command laid upon him, raised the window and looked into the street. Just as she did so, she saw him running back toward his home from the house of Mr. Winters, on the steps of which sat Emily. Entering quickly, she heard him close the street-door with a slight jar, as if he designed making as little noise as possible.
"Where have you been, Andrew?" asked Mrs. Howland as soon as he came up to her room, which he did soon after.
"Down in the kitchen with Jane," was replied without hesitation.