“Stop, Rollo,” said his father. “Be still. You cannot tell the story intelligibly now, and if you could, I should not be willing to listen to it. You must not say any thing about it, unless you are questioned, until we get home.” By this time they came up pretty near the place where the rest of the party were; but his father did not take him there. He turned aside, and, putting Rollo down, he led him along to a smooth log, which lay among some old trees, close by, and told him to sit there, until he was entirely composed and pleasant again, and then to come to him, or to go to picking berries again, just as he pleased. Rollo sat on the log, for some time, with his empty basket by his side, mourning over his sorrows. Lucy came to him, and endeavored to console him. She begged him not to cry; and she poured out half of her own berries into his basket, and told him that they could soon fill it full again, if he would come with her to a good thick place she had found. Rollo became gradually quiet and composed, and walked along with Lucy. Lucy had indeed found a place where the berries were very thick and large, and Rollo determined to be as industrious as possible. They worked away very busily for half an hour, and Rollo gradually recovered his spirits. His mother watched him from time to time, and when she saw that he was good-humored again, she said to his father, “Rollo seems to be picking his berries very pleasantly. I rather think he is sorry for his conduct.” “Yes, I see he is getting _good-humored_ again, but I am afraid he is not truly penitent. It is easier _forget_ a sin, than to be sorry for it. It is very easy, however, for us to ascertain.” “How can we ascertain?” asked his mother. “Why, if you should go and ask him about it, if he is really penitent, he will be troubled most to think of his disobedience in going; into the bad company; but if he is not penitent, he will not think of that, but only go to scolding about the bad boys.” “That is true,” said she. “I have a great mind to go and try him.” Rollo’s father thought it would be a good plan, and she, accordingly, walked along towards Rollo slowly, gathering berries as she went. Rollo saw her coming, and said, “Here is mother, Lucy; let us go and give her our berries.” So saying, he carried his basket up to her very pleasantly, and said, “Here, mother; see, here are all these berries I have been picking for you.” “Ah,” said she, “did you pick all these for me?” “E—h—no,” said he; “not all; Lucy gave me some.” “Well, Lucy, I am very much obliged to you, and I am glad to see that you, Rollo, are pleasant again; I am sorry you went and got into difficulty with those boys.” “They came and took away my berries,” said he, “and struck me—that great ugly Jim.” The feelings of vexation and anger against the bad boys began to rise again in Rollo’s mind, the moment he began to talk about them, and he was just going to cry. His mother stopped him, saying,