As they walked on, they saw the little boy who had been following them; for he run on some way before, and was then sitting on the grass. When they looked upon him he cast his eyes downwards, got up after they had passed, and followed them again. Mary observed him, but said nothing.
She asked the old man if he lived alone. “No, little lady,” answered he, “I have a cottage on the other side of that meadow, seated in the middle of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. An old neighbor, whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my ground. He is an honest man, and I am perfectly easy in his society; but the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have I the happiness to see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me.”
These complaints touched the heart of Mary, who told him that she and her mother would come and see him. The sensibility and kindness of this little girl, served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his mind the loss he had sustained in his son. Tears came in his eyes, when he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and instead of again putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped aside, and fell unnoticed by him or Mary.
The little boy who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to pick it up, and gave it to the old man, saying, “Here, good old man, you dropped your handkerchief and here it is.”――“Thank you heartily, my little friend,” said the old man. “Here is a good natured lad, who does not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. You will certainly become an honest man. Come both of you to my habitation, and I will give you some milk.” They had no sooner reached the old man’s cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had, which though coarse, was good. They all sat down upon the grass, and made a comfortable repast. However, Mary began to be afraid her parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being scolded by his mother.
“This mother of your’s,” said the old man, “must be very cross to scold you.”
“She is not always so,” replied the boy; “but though she loves me, she makes me fear her.”