Rollo at Work

The Trying Time.

The trying time did come, true enough; for, in June and July, Rollo found it hard to take proper care of his garden. If he had worked resolutely an hour, once or twice a week, it would have been enough; but he became interested in other plays, and, when Jonas reminded him that the weeds were growing, he would go in and hoe a few minutes, and then go away to play.

At last, one day his father gave him notice that his garden was getting out of order, and, unless it was entirely restored in three days, it must be forfeited.

Rollo was not much alarmed, for he thought he should have ample time to do it before the three days should have expired.

It was just at night that Rollo received his notice. He worked a little the next morning; but his heart was not in it much, and he left it before he had made much progress. The weeds were well rooted and strong, and he found it much harder to get them up than he expected. The next day, he did a little more, and, near the latter part of the afternoon, Jonas saw him running about after butterflies in the yard, and asked him if he had got his work all done.

"No," said he; "but I think I have got more than half done, and I can finish it very early to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" said Jonas. "To-morrow is Sunday, and you cannot work then."

"Is it?" said Rollo, with much surprise and alarm; "I didn't know that. What shall I do? Do you suppose my father will count Sunday?"

"Yes," said Jonas, "I presume he will. He said, three days, without mentioning any thing about Sunday."

Rollo ran for his hoe. He had become much attached to his ground, and was very unwilling to lose it; but he knew that his father would rigorously insist on his forfeiting it, if he failed to keep the conditions. So he went to work as hard as he could.

It was then almost sundown. He hoed away, and pulled up the weeds, as industriously as possible, until the sun went down. He then kept on until it was so dark that he could not see any longer, and then, finding that there was considerable more to be done, and that he could not work any longer, he sat down on the side of his little wheelbarrow, and burst into tears.

He knew, however, that it would do no good to cry, and so, after a time, he dried his eyes, and went in. He could not help hoping that his father would not count the Sunday; and "If I can only have Monday," said he to himself, "it will all be well."

He went in to ask his father, but found that he had gone away, and would not come home until quite late. He begged his mother to let him sit up until he came home, so that he could ask him, and, as she saw that he was so anxious and unhappy about it, she consented. Rollo sat at the window watching, and, as soon as he heard his father drive up to the door, he went out, and, while he was getting out of the chaise, he said to him, in a trembling, faltering voice,

"Father, do you count Sunday as one of my three days?"

"No, my son."

Rollo clapped his hands, and said, "O, how glad!" and ran back. He told his mother that he was very much obliged to her for letting him sit up, and now he was ready to go to bed.

He went to his room, undressed himself, and, in a few minutes, his father came in to get his light.

"Father," said Rollo, "I am very much obliged to you for not counting Sunday."

"It is not out of any indulgence to you, Rollo; I have no right to count Sunday."

"No right, father? Why, you said three days."

"Yes; but in such agreements as that, three working days are always meant; so that, strictly, according to the agreement, I do not think I have any right to count Sunday. If I had, I should have felt obliged to count it."

"Why, father?"

"Because I want you, when you grow up to be a man, to be bound by your agreements. Men will hold you to your agreements when you are a man, and I want you to be accustomed to it while you are a boy. I should rather give up twice as much land as your garden, than take yours away from you now; but I must do it if you do not get it in good order before the time is out."

"But, father, I shall, for I shall have time enough on Monday."

"True; but some accident may prevent it. Suppose you should be sick."

"If I was sick, should you count it?"

"Certainly. You ought not to let your garden get out of order; and, if you do it, you run the risk of all accidents that may prevent your working during the three days."

Rollo bade his father good night, and he went to sleep, thinking what a narrow escape he had had. He felt sure that he should save it now, for he did not think there was the least danger of his being sick on Monday.