I spoke kindly and cheerfully. But he neither moved, looked up, nor gave the smallest sign that he heard me.
"Oh, well," said I, with some impatience in my voice—"it doesn't matter at all. If you'd rather sit there than come down into the parlor and look out for dear father, you can please yourself."
And turning away as I spoke, I left the chamber, and went down stairs. Seating myself at the window, I looked forth and endeavored to feel unconcerned and cheerful. But, this was beyond my power. I saw nothing but the form of my grieving child, and could think of nothing but his sorrow and disappointment.
"Nancy," said I to one of my domestics, who happened to come into the parlor to ask me some question, "I wish you would run down to the toy store in the next block, and buy Neddy a wagon. His heart is almost broken about one."
The girl, always willing, when kindly spoke to, ran off to obey my wishes, and in a little while came back with the article wanted.
"Now," said I, "go up into my room and tell Neddy that I've got something for him. Don't mention the wagon; I want to take him by surprise."
Nancy went bounding up the stairs, and I placed the wagon in the centre of the room where it would meet the child's eyes on the moment of his entrance, and then sat down to await his coming, and enjoy his surprise and delight.
After the lapse of about a minute, I heard Nancy coming down slowly.
"Neddy's asleep," said she, looking in at the door.
"Asleep!" I felt greatly disappointed.