Out of idleness, he had
amused himself by holding the string of beads at one end, and dropping
them down the mysterious hole, "like fishing," he said, till,
unluckily, he had dropped them in altogether; and there, no doubt,
they were still lying! He was frightened at what he had done, but he
meant to tell Bee, and ask her advice. But that very afternoon the
doctor came, and he was separated from the other children; and, while
he was ill, he seemed to have forgotten about it. When Martha
questioned him at the seaside, he had no idea she was speaking of the
beads; but he did not like her questions, because they made him
remember what he _had_ lost. And then he thought he would try to
get the beads out of the hole by poking with a stick when he came
home; but he had found he could not manage it, and then he had taken a
dislike to that part of the room.
All this was told with many sobs and tears, but Bee soothed him as
well as she could; and when his mother soon after came to the nursery
and heard the story, she was very kind indeed, and made him see how
even little wrong-doings, like taking the beads to play with without
leave, always bring unhappiness; and still more, how wise and right it
is for children to tell at once when they have done wrong, instead of
trying to put the wrong right themselves. That was all she said,
except that, as she kissed her poor little boy, she told him to tell
no one else about it, except Martha, and that she would see what could
be done.
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