“Don’t cry, pop,” said Sebastian bravely. “I couldn’t help it. It’s all right. I’ll be out in the morning.”
Gerhardt only shook with his grief.
“Don’t cry,” continued Sebastian, doing his very best to restrain his own tears. “I’ll be all right. What’s the use of crying?”
“I know, I know,” said the gray-headed parent brokenly, “but I can’t help it. It is my fault that I should let you do that.”
“No, no, it isn’t,” said Sebastian. “You couldn’t help it. Does mother know anything about it?”
“Yes, she knows,” he returned. “Jennie and George just came up where I was and told me. I didn’t know anything about it until just now,” and he began to cry again.
“Well, don’t you feel badly,” went on Bass, the finest part of his nature coming to the surface. “I’ll be all right. Just you go back to work now, and don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“How did you hurt your eye?” asked the father, looking at him with red eyes.
“Oh, I had a little wrestling match with the man who nabbed me,” said the boy, smiling bravely. “I thought I could get away.”
“You shouldn’t do that, Sebastian,” said the father. “It may go harder with you on that account. When does your case come up?”