"Oh, bother!" said he,--for he was irritated at the thought of having
only so narrowly escaped doing himself serious damage,--"what do you
get in a fellow's way for? You--" But the poor little mite gazed up
at him so sadly, and wept so piteously at his hasty words that he
paused suddenly and did not go on.
He looked down the two paths. The one was wide and curving, the other
narrow and straight; the one was bordered with rich foliage, the other
was bare and sandy. He might have run lightly along the one, he would
have to toil wearisomely along the other. What wonder that his foot
was turning in the direction of the first! But a queer pricking in his
bosom and the child's cry stopped him.
He slowly drew forth his rule and began to measure, while the little
one sobbed,--
"I 'm so told I tan't walt any more. My foots are all tired out, and I
want sumpin to eat;" and there he found himself just on the verge of
making a fearful blunder. He got up from his knees and turning to the
tiny maid, said kindly,--
"There, there! don't cry, dear! We 'll fix you all right;" and he
stripped off his jacket and wrapped it about her, taking her in his
arms, and trudging on with his burden along the more difficult way.
But it was the right one, and he knew it; and so his heart was light,
and he did not have time to think of his own weariness; for all the
time he was trying to comfort his forlorn little companion.
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