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"How comes it," said he, "that the key of the closet is not with the others?" “You say that, do you, John? You think that to be strong is the greatest thing? Possibly it was, in past ages; but in the future, the man with the most love in his heart, the best man, will be the greatest. Remember that, little John Blossom.” Once upon a time there was a woodcutter and his wife who had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. People wondered that the woodcutter had so many children so near in age, but the fact was, that several of them were twins. He and his wife were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, as not one of them was yet able to earn his livelihood. What troubled them still more was, that the youngest was very delicate, and seldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity rather than of good sense. He was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely bigger than one's thumb, and so they called him Little Thumbling..
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They talked on until sleep overcame them. For his part, Bob went off into dreamland feeling that the day had been well spent. The adventures had been big adventures and he and Jerry had come through safely. Jerry had loosened up and had come out of his shell and Bob knew that he had made a new friend and a good one. “Have you learned anything?” asked Bob quickly. “Well, you are early enough I hope. I want to say this much, Johnny Blossom, that I won’t have it on my conscience that you should eat any half-rotten apples—and there are usually a good many half-rotten of this kind—but those that are cracked or bruised you may have, for they won’t keep anyway.” Johnny smiled condescendingly. “You don’t know how strong I am, Uncle Isaac. Look at my muscle here.”.
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