But things of more interest to Mrs. Herbert, than the simple wish of a child, so fully occupied her mind from the time she left her own door, that she never again thought of the book, until she saw Eddy’s dear face at the window.  It was serious, and slightly impatient, as if he were wearied with watching and waiting; but the moment his eyes rested upon her form, his whole countenance brightened, as though lit up by a sunbeam.  Almost as soon as Mrs. Herbert’s hand touched the bell, the street door was thrown open, and the glad child stood, like a rebuking spirit, before her.

“Where’s my book, mamma?  Give me my book, mamma!  Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!”

Now, the first conviction of wrong, often has an irritating effect upon the mind, obscuring its perceptions, and leading, sometimes, to the impulsive commission of greater wrongs.  It was so in the present case.  The happy countenance of her child did not bring joy to the mother’s heart; for she knew that with a word, she must dash to the ground all his buoyant anticipations.  And she remembered, too, at the moment, how poorly he could bear disappointment.

“Eddy, dear,” said Mrs. Herbert, taking her little boy by the hand, and advancing toward the parlor door with him, “Eddy, dear, let me tell you something.”

Her grave tone and look caused a shiver to pass inward toward the heart of the child.  He understood, but too well, that the mother, whose word he had trusted so implicitly, had been faithless to her promise.

Poor child! even this advancing shadow of a coming disappointment, darkened his young face and filled his eyes with tears.

Mrs. Herbert sat down on the nearest chair, as she entered the parlor, and drew Eddy to her side.  She saw, from his sad face, that words were not required to make him aware that the promised book was not in her possession; and she knew, from former experience, that trouble was before her.  Unhappily, she did not feel softened, but rather irritated, toward the child.

“Eddy,” she said firmly, yet with as much tenderness as she could assume, “Eddy, you know you promised me to be such a good boy.”

“And I have been good,” eagerly answered the little fellow, lifting his swimming eyes to her face, “you may ask nurse if I havn’t been good all the time.”

“I’m sure you have,” said Mrs. Herbert, touched by the manner of her child; “and yet, Eddy, I have not brought your book.”

The tears, which had been ready to start, now gushed over his face, and a low cry pained the mother’s ears.

“Eddy,” said she, seriously, “let me tell you about it.  You must listen to reason.”

Reason! poor, disappointed little one!  He had no ear for the comprehension of reasons.

“Now, Eddy!  I can’t have this!” Mrs. Herbert spoke firmly, for already the child was weeping bitterly.  “Crying will do no good.  I promised you the book, and you shall have it.  I had no opportunity to get it this morning.  Come now! you must stop at once, or I——­”