The next day the whole town was busy--very busy--gossiping. Everybody
told everybody else what the queer little old man had been overheard
to say.
But where was the little old man?
Now that they thought of it, who had seen him since the night before?
Nobody!
Where could he be? Had he dropped through a crack in the floor, his
disappearance could not have been more sudden or more complete.
Every one was excited. It was not that the town cared particularly
about the queer little old man. It was not that, at all. Only the
people were curious to learn where he could have gone or what could
have happened to him.
* * * * *
Leading from the town was a crooked road that was traveled but little.
At the end of the road was a great forest where there lived many
animals and birds.
Had any of the townspeople been up very, very early on the morning
that the queer little old man disappeared, they need not have been so
excited.
For on that morning a bent little figure might have been seen trudging
along the crooked road leading toward the forest.
The man was dressed poorly, almost shabbily. He walked slowly, and
seemed to be deep in thought.
Over his shoulder he carried a cane. From it hung a bag made of a big
red figured handkerchief.
Apparently the man was on a journey, and the big red figured
handkerchief was his traveling bag.
The fat, round-faced Moon Man smiled down from his home in the sky at
the little figure in the road. His mouth seemed to move, and I am sure
he was saying:
"Go, brave little old man. Go where you've decided to go.
"If you are going to the forest, you will no doubt find a welcome
there. Some animals and birds are better as friends than are some
people.
"Anyway, the great forest is in need of your lessons. I will light the
way for you. May the good spirits attend you!"
And in the stillness of the early morning the queer little old man of
the quaint old town might have been heard to answer:
"So I have decided. Come what may, I shall be satisfied.
"Thank you, kind Moon Man, for your good wishes and for your bright
light."
And on and on he trudged.
The orange sun was peeping its head above the horizon when the queer
little old man reached the edge of the forest.
What warmth the glorious sun gave! His rays gave warmth of heart as
well as warmth of body.
The old man sat down on a log, to rest his tired legs and to take a
bite to eat.
Then a voice within the queer little old man began to talk.
It said: "Perhaps, after all, you should not have left the quaint old
town. You were a coward to run away.
"Ever since young Mr. Spendthrift came there to live you have been
discontented. And when the people began to take his advice rather than
yours, you grew angry and left.
"Is that the way for an old man to do who always had plenty to eat and
to wear?"
But another voice with a fiery little temper was waiting to be heard.
"What!" it cried, "have you no principle? Are you a worm, to be
stepped upon?
"Waste is wrong, no matter what you waste. Thrift is right and forever
will be.
"Therefore, hie you to the heart of the forest as you have decided.
You will at least have peace of mind, and surely that is worth as much
as 'plenty to eat and to wear'!"