After a little while, Rollo’s mother left him and Lucy together, and went back lo where his father and uncle were.

“Well,” said they, “how did you find Rollo?”

“Pleasant, but not penitent,” said she Lucy and Rollo went on gathering berries some time after Rollo’s mother left him, in silence.  Rollo felt rather unhappy, but he was not subdued.  His heart was still proud and unhumbled, and after a time, he said to Lucy,

“It seems to me very strange that my mother does not think those boys were to blame any for doing so.”

“She does think they were to blame, Rollo, I know.”

“No, she does not; she will not hear me say any thing about them.”

Lucy did not answer, because she knew it would do no good to dispute with Rollo, while he was so unreasonable.  Rollo ought to have been willing to have seen his fault, and to have felt truly sorry for it; but he was not, and so Lucy thought it was better not to talk with him about it at all.  If he had been truly sorry, and had gone and told his father so, and asked his forgiveness, he would have been happy again.

But as it was, he was not happy.  The recollection of his disobedience and sin would remain in his mind, and though he tried to talk, and laugh, and play, as usual, his mind was not much at ease.  In fact, he was secretly glad when the time arrived for going home.

The party all gathered together on a smooth piece of ground, about the middle of the afternoon, to make their arrangements for going down the mountain.  They put their baskets, filled beautifully with blueberries, together on the grass, while they sat on the stones and logs around, to rest a little before walking down.

Then Rollo’s father arranged the order of march.  Jonas was to go first, with two of the heaviest baskets of berries.  Next came Lucy, with her little basket about two thirds full, and with leaves and some beautiful pieces of moss she had found, put in upon the top.  Then came Rollo’s mother leaning on his uncle’s arm.  His uncle had a basket of berries in his other hand.  Finally, Rollo and his father walked together behind, with each a basket in his hand.

Thus they walked along down the steep path, until they began to enter the bushes.  Rollo’s father had made this arrangement so that he might have an opportunity to talk with him about the difficulty with the boys, for he thought, on the whole, it would be better to talk with him now than to wait till they got home.

After they had walked along a little way, Rollo’s father asked him whether he had a good time blueberrying?

“Why, yes, sir,” said Rollo, “pretty good.”

“Have you seen any thing more of those boys?”

“No, sir.”

“Your mother went to talk with you, and said you did not seem very sorry for your fault.”

“Why, father,” said Rollo, “I did not do any thing to the boys at all:  it was all their fault, entirely.”