The worst was over now; for, the moment Mr. Littlefield saw the broken carriage, he knew the whole story.
I cannot say he wasn’t vexed. Pollio had proved more troublesome than he had expected,—chasing the cows, putting the wheelbarrow, rake, and hoe out of place, and now meddling with this new carriage.
But Friend Littlefield knew how to rule his own spirit: he would not speak a word when he was angry. Instead of speaking, he waited, and looked at Pollio, who was trying to double himself into a hard knot. The sight of the child’s misery moved him to pity; of course it did, for Mr. Littlefield couldn’t bear to see even a fly unhappy.
“Well, Napoleon: so my new carriage is broken. Who broke it?”
The tone was so gentle, that Pollio ventured to look up; and the old gentleman was beaming down on him so kindly, that he couldn’t bear it another minute.
“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry!” sobbed he, throwing both arms round one of the Quaker’s knees.
“_No, sir!_ I wouldn’t have _not_ told for any thing in this world!” cried Pollio, hunting for his handkerchief.
But, before he had found it,—and of course it wasn’t in his pocket, for he had thrown it at a tree-toad,—Mr. Littlefield had caught him up in his arms, and was giving him a good hugging.
“Thee is one of the Lord’s own little ones,” said he, kissing him on both cheeks. “Thee didn’t do right to meddle with my chaise,—I won’t uphold thee in that,—but thee did nobly to tell the truth. The Lord bless thee and keep thee! Why, Napoleon, I never liked thee half so well as I do this minute!”
How did Pollio feel then? I suppose he never was so surprised in his life. The Quaker had to give him the use of his handkerchief for about two minutes; and after that the shower cleared off, and a rainbow shone in his eyes. The lumps had gone out of his throat, the ache had gone out of his heart, and the whole world looked so beautiful, that he wanted to shout and turn somersets all the way to the house.
Such a supper! Why, Mrs. Littlefield had warm biscuits and honey, just as if she knew they were the very things Pollio liked best. And after tea Mr. Littlefield took him on his knee, and told him a bear-story, which was so funny that I wish I could tell it myself, only I can’t make you laugh as the Quaker would have done.