went down into the parlor, and seating himself at the window,
watched, with childish eagerness, for the form of his mother.

Strange as it may seem to the reader, Mrs. Herbert had scarcely
passed into the street, ere her promise was forgotten. Not that she
was indifferent to the happiness of her child--not that she was a
heartless mother. Far very far from this. Purely and truly did she
love this sweet boy. But, so much were her thoughts interested in
other things, that she did not, at the time, comprehend the
earnestness of his childish wishes; nor think of her promise as a
sacred thing. The request for a picture book seemed to her but the
expression of a sudden thought, that passed from his mind as soon as
uttered. And yet, she had not promised without intending to meet the
wishes of her child, for she was an indulgent mother, and rarely
said "No," to any request that might reasonably be gratified. She
had noticed Cousin Edie's pretty book, and thought that she would,
some time or other, get one like it for Eddy. The child's request
but seconded this thought. There was will, therefore, in her
promise. She meant to do as she had said.

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.