"Horses have run away with him," Trove continued. "His character
is like a broken buggy; and his imagination--that's the unbroken
colt. Every day, for a long time, the colt has run away with the
wagon, tipping it over and dragging it in the ditch, until every
bolt is loose, and every spoke rattling, and every wheel awry. I
do hope he's repaired his 'ex.'"
"He walks better and complains less," the widow answered.
"Often he stands very straight and walks like you," said Polly,
laughing.
"He thinks you are the only great man," so spoke the widow.
"Gone from one illusion to another," said Trove. "It's a lesson;
every one should go softly. Tom, will you now describe the
melancholy feat of Theophilus Thistleton?"
The fable was quickly repeated.
"That Mr. Thistleton was a foolish fellow, and there's many like
him," said Trove. "He had better have been thrusting blueberries
into his mouth. I declare!" he added, sitting back with a look of
surprise, "I'm happy again."
"And we are going to keep you so," Polly answered with decision.
"Darrel would tell me that I am at last in harmony with a great law
which, until now, I have been defying. It is true; I have thought
too much of my own desires.
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