“Come, George! come, my little son,” said Mrs. Hope to her sleeping boy, one bright morning in June, laying her hand upon him, and endeavouring to awake him.
George roused up for a moment, and then fell off again to sleep. He felt heavy and dull.
“Come, George!” urged his mother, again disturbing him. “Emily is up and dressed for a walk. And the sun is up, too.”
This time the little boy opened his eyes, rubbed them, stretched himself, half arose from his pillow and then sunk down again and went to sleep.
“A little more sleep and a little more slumber,” said Mrs. Hope, smiling. “Ah, George! I’m afraid you will be a sad sluggard. Come! come! this will never do!” and she shook him harder than before.
“Don’t you see, George, that your sister is all dressed, and that the sun is streaming in at the window?” she continued, as her boy started up quickly. “Come, be quick now, or every bright dew-drop will be kissed from the leaves and blossoms before we can get into the fields.”
“I don’t care about going, mother,” replied George, sinking back upon his pillow. “You and Emily can go this time. To-morrow morning I will go with you.”
“And to-morrow morning you will feel just as dull and sluggish as you do now. No, no, George; now is the time. So, come, rouse yourself up, and don’t keep us waiting for you any longer.”
As the mother said this, she lifted her little boy from his bed, and, seating him on her lap, first of all washed his face in a basin of cool, clean water. This made him as bright as a new shilling. In a little while he was all ready for the walk; and then mother, George, and Emily, accompanied with gay little Fido, who went barking before them, started off for their morning walk.