"You must hush, now," said I, more positively. "I cannot permit this. I never promised to buy you a wagon."
"You said may be so," sobbed the child.
"May be so, and yes, are two different things. If I had said that I would buy you a wagon, then there would have been some reason in your disappointment; but I said no such thing."
He had paused to listen; but, as I ceased speaking, his crying was renewed.
"You must stop this now. There is no use in it, and I will not have it," said I, resolutely.
My boy choked down for a few moments at this, and half stifled his grief; but o'ermastering him, it flowed on again as wildly as ever. I felt impatient.
"Stop this moment, I say!" And I took hold of his arm firmly. My will is strong, and when a little excited, it often leads me beyond where I would go in moments of reflection. My boy knew this by experience. By my manner of speaking he saw that I was in earnest, and that, if he did not obey me, punishment would follow. So, with what must have been a powerful effort for one so young, he stifled the utterance of his grief. But, the storm within raged none the less violently, and I could see his little frame quiver as he strove to repress the rising sobs.
Turning away from me, he went and sat down on a low seat in a corner of the room. I saw his form in the glass as I stood before it to arrange my hair, after laying aside my bonnet; and for the first time my feelings were touched. There was an abandonment in his whole attitude; an air of grief about him that affected me with pity and tenderness.
"Poor child!" I sighed. "His heart is almost broken. I ought to have said yes or no; and then all would have been settled."
"Come," said I, after a few moments, reaching my hand towards the child—"let us go down and look out for father. He will be home soon."