The next morning, Rollo awoke early, and he was very much pleased to
see, as soon as he opened his eyes, that the sun was shining in at the
windows. He was not only pleased to find that the prospect was so good
for a pleasant ride, but his vanity was gratified at the thought that
it had turned out that he knew better about the weather than his
father. He began to dress himself, as far as he could without help, and
was preparing to hasten down to his father, to tell him that it was
going to be a pleasant day. When he was nearly dressed, he was
surprised lo observe that the bright sunlight on the wall was gradually
fading away, and at length it wholly disappeared. He went to look out
the window to see what was the cause. He found that there was a broad
expanse of dark cloud covering the eastern sky, excepting a narrow
strip quite low down, near the horizon. When the sun first rose, it
shone brightly through this narrow zone of clear sky; but now it had
ascended a little higher, and gone behind the cloud.
“Never mind,” said Rollo to himself. “The cloud is not so very large
after all, and the sun will come out again above it when it gets up a
little higher.”
Rollo came down to breakfast, and he went out into the yard every two
or three minutes, to look at the sky. The cloud seemed to extend, so
that the sun did not come out of it, as he expected, but still he
thought it was going to be pleasant Children generally think it is
going to be pleasant, whenever they want to go away.
His father thought it was probably going to rain, and that at any rate
it was very doubtful whether Uncle George would come. However, he said
they should soon see, and, true enough, just as they were rising from
the breakfast table, a chaise drove up to the door, and out jumped
Uncle George and cousin Lucy.
Lucy was a very pleasant little blue-eyed girl, two or three years
older than Rollo. She had a small tin pail in her hand, with a cover
upon it.
“Good morning, Rollo,” said she. “Have you got your basket ready?”
“Yes,” said Rollo; “but I am afraid it is going to rain.”
While the children were saying this, Uncle George said to Rollo’s
father,
“I suppose we shall have to give up our expedition to-day. I am in
hopes we are going to have some rain.”
“In _hopes_,” thought Rollo; “that is very strange when we want to go a
blueberrying.”
Rollo’s father and mother and his uncle looked at the clouds all
around. They concluded that there was every appearance of rain, and
that it would be best to postpone their excursion, and then went into
the house. Rollo was very confident it would not rain, and was very
eager to have them go. He asked Lucy if she did not think it was going
to be pleasant, but Lucy was more modest and reasonable than he was,
and said that she did not know; she could not judge of the weather so
well as her father.
Rollo began by this time to be considerably out of humor. He said he
knew it was not going to rain, and he did not see why they might not
go. He did not believe it would rain a drop all day.
Lucy just then pointed down to a little dark spot on the stone step of
the door, where a drop had just fallen, and asked Rollo what he called
that.
“And that,—and that,—and that,” said she, pointing to several other
drops.
Rollo at first insisted that that was not rain, but some little spots
on the stone.
Then Lucy reached out her hand and said,
“Hold out your hand so, Rollo, and you will feel the drops coming down
out of the sky.”
Rollo held out his hand a moment, but then immediately withdrew it,
saying, impatiently, that he did not care; it was not rain; at any rate
it was only a little sprinkling.
Lucy observed that Rollo was getting very much out of humor, and she
tried to please him by saying,
“Rollo, I would not mind. If it does rain, I will ask my father to let
me stay and play with you to-day, and we can have a fine time up in
your little room.”
“No, we cannot,” said Rollo; “and besides, they will not let you stay,
I know. I went yesterday to ask my father to let Jonas go with us
to-day, and he would not.”
It was certainly very unreasonable for Rollo to imagine that his father
and uncle would be unwilling to have Lucy stay just because it had not
been convenient to let Jonas go with them. But when children are out of
humor, they are always very unreasonable.
“Why would not he let Jonas go?” asked Lucy.
“I do not know. Mother said it was because I did not ask him right.”
“How did you ask him?”
“O, I interrupted him. He was reading.”
“O, that is not the way. I never _interrupt_ my father if I want to ask
him any thing.”
“Suppose he is busy, and you want to know that very minute; what do you
do?”
“I will show you. Come with me and I will ask him to let me stay with
you to-day.”
So Lucy and Rollo walked in. When they came to the parlor door, they
saw that their parents were sitting on the sofa, talking about other
things.
Rollo stopped at the door, but Lucy went in gently. She walked up to
her father’s side, and stood there still.
Her father took no notice of her at first, but went on talking with
Rollo’s father. Lucy stood very patiently until, after a few minutes,
her father stopped talking, and said,
“Lucy, my dear, do you want to speak to me?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lucy, “I wanted to ask you if you were willing to let
me stay here to-day and play with Rollo, if you do not go to the
mountain.”
“I do not know,” said her father, hesitating, and patting Lucy on the
head—“that is a new idea; however, I believe I have no objection.”
Lucy ran back joyfully to Rollo, and after a short time, her father
went home. Rollo, however, did not feel in any better humor, and all
Lucy’s endeavors to engage him in some amusement, failed. She proposed
building with bricks, or going up into his little room, and drawing
pictures on their slates, or getting his storybooks out and reading
stories, and various other things, but Rollo would not be pleased.
Rollo ought, now, when he found that he must be disappointed about his
ride, to have immediately banished it from his mind altogether, and
turned his thoughts to other pleasures; but like all ill-humored
people, he _would_ keep thinking and talking, all the time, about the
thing which caused his ill-humor. So he sat in a large back entry,
where he and Lucy were, looking out at the door, and saying a great
many ill-natured things about the weather, and his father’s giving up
the ride just for a little sprinkling of rain that would not last half
an hour. He said it was a shame, too, for it to rain that day, just
because he was going to ride.
Just then, his father spoke to him from the window, and called him in.
He and Lucy went in together into the parlor.
“Rollo,” said his father, “did you know you were doing very wrong?”
Rollo felt a little guilty, but he said rather faintly, “No, sir, I was
not doing any thing.”
“You are committing a great many sins, all at once.”
Rollo was silent. He knew his father meant sins of the heart.
“Your heart is in a very wicked state. You are under the dominion of
some of the worst of feelings; you are self-conceited, ungrateful,
undutiful, unjust, selfish, and,” he added in a lower and more solemn
tone, “even impious.”
Rollo thought that these were heavy charges to bring upon him; but his
father spoke calmly and kindly, and he knew that he could easily show
that what he said was true.
“You are _self-conceited_—vainly imagining that you, a little boy of
seven years old, can judge better than your father and mother, and
obstinately persisting in your opinion that it is not going to rain,
when the rain has actually commenced, and is falling faster and faster.
You are _ungrateful,_ to speak reproachfully of me, and give me pain,
by your ill-will, when I have been planning this excursion, in a great
degree, for your enjoyment, and only give it up because I am absolutely
compelled to do it by a storm; _undutiful_, in showing such a repining,
unsubmissive spirit towards your father; _unjust_ in making Lucy and
all of us suffer, because you are unwilling to submit to these
circumstances that we cannot control; _selfish_, in being unwilling
that it should rain and interfere with your ride, when you know that
rain is so much wanted in all the fields, all over the country; and,
what is worse than all, _impious_, in openly rebelling against God, and
censuring the arrangements of his providence, and pretending to think
that they are made just to trouble you.”
When he had said this, he paused to hear what Rollo would say. He
thought that if he was convinced of his sin, and really penitent, he
would acknowledge that he was wrong, or at least be silent;—but that
if, on the other hand, he were still unsubdued, he would go to making
excuses.
After a moment’s pause, Rollo said,—“I did not know that there was need
of rain in the fields.”
“Did not you?” said his father. “Did not you know that the ground was
very dry, and that, unless we have rain soon, the crops will suffer
very much?”
“No, sir,” said Rollo.
“It is so,” said his father; “and this rain, which you are so unwilling
to have descend, is going down into the ground all over the country,
and into the roots of all the plants growing in the fields, carrying in
the nourishment which will swell out all the corn and grain, and apples
and pears. In a few days there will be thousands and thousands of
dollars’ worth of fruit and food more than there would have been
without this rain; and yet you are very unwilling to have it come,
because you want to go and get a few blueberries!”
Rollo was confounded, and had not a word to say.
“Now, Rollo,” continued his father, “all the rest of us are disposed to
be good-humored, and to acquiesce in God’s decision, and try to have a
happy day at home; and we cannot have it spoiled by your wicked
repinings. So you must go away by yourself, until you feel willing to
submit pleasantly and with good humor. Then you may come back, but be
sure not to come back before.”