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A LITTLE LAW

That evening, when Rollo’s father came home, he went out at the door leading to the garden yard, and looked into the yard to see if Rollo was there. He was not to be seen.

His father then took the bell which always hung in the entry, and began to ring it at the door. This bell was the one that was rung for breakfast, dinner, and supper; and when Rollo was out, they generally called him in, by ringing it at the door.

While Rollo’s father was ringing the bell, Dorothy opened the door which led from the kitchen into the entry, and said to Rollo’s father,

“Are you ringing for Rollo, sir?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“He has gone to the village,” said Dorothy. “He has gone back to look for a pocket-book, which he dropped, coming home, or else left at the apothecary’s.”

“A pocket-book?” said his father, with surprise.

“Yes, sir,” said Dorothy. “He went to get some medicine for Sarah, and, when he came home, the pocket-book was missing.”

“Was there any money in it?” said he.

“Yes, sir,” replied Dorothy.

“How much?”

“I don’t know, sir, how much.”

Rollo’s father then put the bell back into its place, and walked again into the parlor. He was afraid that there was a good deal of money in the pocket-book, and that it was all lost.

He, however, went on attending to his own business, until by and by he heard Rollo’s voice in the kitchen. He called him in. Rollo and James came in together.

“Have you found the pocket-book?” asked Mr. Holiday.

“No, sir,” said Rollo; “I have looked all along the road, and inquired at the apothecary’s; but I can’t find any thing of it.”

“Well, now, I want you to tell me the whole story; and especially, if you have done wrong about it, in any way, don’t attempt to smooth and gloss it over, but tell me that part more plainly and distinctly and fully than any other.”

“Well, sir,” said Rollo, with a very serious air, “I will.

“We went to the apothecary’s to get some medicines for Sarah. When I was there, I put the change in the wallet, and put the wallet in this pocket.”

“It was a wallet, then,” said his father.

“Yes,” replied Rollo, “a wallet, or a small pocket-book. I suppose now, that it would have been better to have put it in some other pocket; because that was pretty full. So in that, I suppose, I did wrong. Then James and I came home, only we did not walk along directly; we played about a little from one side of the road to the other, and then we went under the great hemlock-tree, to see if we could not find another hemlock-seed.”

“Another hemlock-seed?” said his father.

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “I suppose it is a hemlock-seed.”

“What was it? a sort of a cone?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “with ridges upon it.”

Now it is true that pines, firs, and other evergreens bear a sort of cone, which contains their seed; and Rollo’s father thought, from Rollo’s description, that it was one of these cones which Rollo had found. In fact, the cone was somewhat similar in shape, though, if he had shown it to his father, he would have known immediately that it was a very different thing. Rollo put his hand into his pocket to show the supposed hemlock-seed to his father, but it was not there. He had left it out in the play room.

“Very well,” said his father, “I don’t know that I ever saw the cone of the hemlock; but, very probably, this is one of them. But go on, about the pocket-book.”

“Well, sir,—when we got home, I took out the medicines, but the pocket-book was nowhere to be found; and I have been back with James, and we have looked all along the road, and under the hemlock-tree, and we have inquired at the apothecary’s; but we cannot find it any where.”

“How much money was there in the wallet?” said his father.

“Half a dollar, and a little more,” said Rollo.

Rollo’s father felt somewhat relieved at finding that the loss was, after all, not very large. He placed confidence in Rollo’s account of the facts, and having thus ascertained how the case stood, he began to consider what was to be done.

“It is a case of bailment,” said he to Rollo, “and the question is, whether you are liable.”

“A case of what?” said Rollo.

“Bailment,” said his father. “When one person intrusts another with his property for any purpose, it is called bailing it to him. The wallet and the money were bailed to you. The law relating to such transactions is called the law of bailment. And the question is, whether, according to the law of bailment, you ought to pay for this loss.”

Rollo seemed surprised at such a serious and legal view of the subject being taken; he waited, however, to hear what more his father had to say.

“I don’t suppose,” continued his father, “that Sarah will commence an action against you; but law is generally justice, and to know what we ought to do in cases like this, it is generally best to inquire what the law requires us to do.”

“Well, sir,” said Rollo, “and how is it?”

“Why, you see,” said his father, “there are various kinds of bailments. A thing may be bailed to you for your benefit; as, for instance, if James were to lend you his knife, the knife would be a bailment to you for your benefit. But if he were to ask you to carry his knife somewhere to be mended, and you should take it, then it would be a bailment to you for his benefit.”

“Well, sir, I took the wallet for Sarah’s benefit, not mine,” said Rollo.

“The law requires,” continued his father, “that you should take greater care of any thing, if it is bailed to you for your benefit, than it does if it is for the benefit of the bailor. For instance, if you were to borrow James’s knife for your own benefit, and were to lose it, even without any special carelessness, you ought to get him another; for it was solely for your advantage, that you took it, and so it ought to be at your risk. But if he asked you to take the knife to get it mended for his benefit; then, if you accidentally lose it, without any particular carelessness, you ought not to pay for it; for it was placed in your hands for his advantage, and so it ought to be at his risk.”

“Well,” said Rollo, “the wallet was given to me for Sarah’s advantage, not mine; and so I ought not to pay for it.”

“That depends upon whether it was lost through gross carelessness, or not. For when any thing is bailed to you for the benefit of the owner, if it is lost or injured through gross carelessness, then the law makes you liable. As, for instance, suppose you take James’s knife to get it mended, and on your way you throw it over the fence among the grass, and then cannot find it, you ought to pay for it; for you were bound to take good ordinary care of it.”

“Well, sir,” said Rollo.

“Well,” repeated his father, “now as this property was bailed to you solely for the advantage of the bailor, the question whether you ought to pay for the loss of it, depends on whether you was grossly careless, or not. If you took good ordinary care, and it was lost by accident, then you are not liable.”

“Well, father, I think it was accident; I do, truly.”

“I rather think so myself,” said his father, with a smile, “and I am inclined to think that you are not responsible. If any body asks a boy like you to carry money for them, gratuitously, then they take themselves the ordinary risks of such a conveyance, and I think that, on the whole, this accident comes within the ordinary risks. There was not such gross carelessness as to make you liable. But then I am very sorry to have Sarah lose her money.”

“So am I,” said Rollo. “And the wallet is gone too.”

“How good a wallet was it?” asked his father.

“O, pretty good; only it was considerably worn.”

“Haven’t you got one that is pretty much the same, that you don’t care a great deal about?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “it is in my desk. I had as lief that she would have it as not.”

“Very well,” said his father; “you give her your wallet, and I will replace the money.”

So Rollo went to his desk, and soon came back, bringing his little wallet. He unfastened its steel clasp, and opened the wallet, and took out some little pictures which he had treasured up there, and some small pieces of white paper, which he said were marks. They were to put into his books to keep the place, when he was reading. He had got quite a quantity of them all prepared for use. When Rollo had got his wallet ready, his father took out half a dollar from his pocket, and also another small silver coin, about as large as Rollo said the one was, which was lost; and then sent Rollo to carry it to Dorothy.

In a few minutes, Rollo came back with the money in his hand, and said,

“She won’t take it. She said I must bring it back. It was as much as I could do to get her to take the wallet.”

“But she must take it,” replied his father. “You carry it to her again, and tell her she has nothing to do with the business. The money is for Sarah, and she must not refuse it, but take it and give it to her the first opportunity.”

So Rollo carried the money again to Dorothy. She received it this time, and put it in the wallet, and then deposited both in a safe place in her work-table. Then Rollo came back to his father to ask him a little more about bailments.

“Father,” said Rollo, when he came back, “if James should give me his knife, or any thing, for my own, would that be a bailment?”

“No,” said his father. “A bailment is only where property is intrusted to another, for a certain purpose, to be returned again to the possession of the owner, when the purpose is accomplished. For instance, when Jonas is sawing wood with my saw, the saw is a bailment from me to him; it remains my property; but he is to use it for a specific purpose, and then return it to my possession.”

“He does not bring it back to you,” said Rollo.

“No, but he hangs it up in its place in my shed, which is putting it again in my possession. And so all the things which Dorothy uses in the kitchen are bailments.”

“And if she breaks them, must she pay for them?”

“No, not unless she is grossly careless. If she exercises good ordinary care, such as prudent persons exercise about their own things, then she is not liable, because she is using them mainly for my benefit, and of course it must be at my risk. But if Sarah should come and borrow a pitcher to carry some milk home in, and should let it fall and break it by the way, even if it was not gross carelessness, she ought to pay for it; that is, the person that sent her ought to pay for it, for it was bailed to her for her benefit alone; and therefore it was at her risk.”

“I should not think you would make her pay for it,” said Rollo.

“No, I certainly should not. I am only telling what I should have a right to do if I chose.

“Sometimes a thing is bailed to a person,” continued Rollo’s father, “for the benefit of both persons, the bailor and the bailee.”

“The bailee?” said James.

“Yes, the bailee is the person the thing is bailed to. For instance, if I leave my watch at the watchmaker’s to be mended, and I am going to pay him for it, in that case you see it is for his advantage and mine too.”

“And then, if it is lost, must he pay for it?”

“Yes; unless he takes good care of it. If it is for his benefit alone, then he must take special care of it, or else he is liable for the loss of it. If it is for my benefit alone, then he must take ordinary care of it. For instance, suppose I had a very superior repeater watch, which the watchmaker should come and borrow of me, in order to see the construction of it. Then suppose I should leave another watch of mine,—a lever,—at his shop to be repaired. Suppose also I should have a third watch, a lady’s watch, which I had just bought somewhere, and I should ask him to be kind enough to keep it for me, a day or two, till my watch was done. These would be three different kinds of bailments. The repeater would be bailed to him for his benefit; the lever for his and mine jointly, and the lady’s watch for my benefit alone.

“Now, you see,” continued Rollo’s father, “that if these watches should get lost or injured in any way, the question whether the watchmaker would have to pay for them or not, would depend upon the degree of care it would have required to save them. For instance, if he locked them all up with special care, and particularly the repeater, and then the building were struck with lightning and the watches all destroyed, he would not have to pay for any of them; for this would be an inevitable accident, which all his care could not guard against. It would have been as likely to have happened to my repeater, if I had kept it at home.

“But suppose now he should hang all three watches up at his window, and a boy in the street should accidentally throw a stone and hit the window, so that the stone should go through the glass and break one of the watches. Now, if the repeater was the one that was hit, I should think the man would be bound to pay for it: because he was bound to take very special care of that, as it was borrowed for his benefit alone. But if it was the lady’s watch, which he had taken only as an accommodation to me, then he would not be obliged to pay; for, by hanging it up with his other watches, he took ordinary care of it, and that was all that he was obliged to take.”

“I should think,” said James, “that the boy would have to pay, if he broke the watches.”

“Yes,” said Rollo’s father; “but we have nothing to do with the boy now, we are only considering the liabilities of the watchmaker.”

“And if it had been the lever that was broken,” asked Rollo, “what then?”

“Why, as to the lever,” said his father, “he was bound to take good care of it,—something more than mere ordinary care; and I don’t know whether the law would consider hanging watches up at a window as good care or not. It would depend upon that, I suppose. But the watches might be lost in another way. Suppose the watchmaker had sent the repeater home to me, and then, at night, had put the lever and the lady’s watch into a small trunk with his other watches, and carried them to his house, as watchmakers do sometimes. Now suppose that, when he got home, he put the trunk of watches down in a corner of the room; and suppose that there was a leak in the roof of his house, so that the water could come in sometimes when it rained. In the night there comes up a shower, and the water gets into the trunk, and rusts and spoils the watches. Now I think it probable that he would not have to pay for the lady’s watch, for he took ordinary care of that,—that is, the same care that he was accustomed to take of his own watches. But he might have to pay for the other; for he was bound to take good care of that one, as it was partly for his benefit that it was bailed to him; and putting them where they were at all exposed to be wet, would be considered, I suppose, as not taking good care of them.”

“And so he would not have to pay for the lady’s watch, in any case,” said Rollo.

“Yes, he would, if he did not take ordinary care of it; that is, if he was grossly negligent. For instance, if he should take all the rest of his watches home, and leave that in his shop upon the counter, where I had laid it down, and somebody should come in the night and steal it, then, perhaps he would be liable.”

By this time, Rollo’s father began to think that his law lecture had been long enough for such young students, and so he said that he would not tell them any more about it then. “But now,” said he, in conclusion, “I want you to remember what I have said, and practise according to it. Boys bail things to one another very often, and a great many disputes arise among them, because they don’t understand the law of bailment. It applies to boys as well as men. It is founded on principles of justice and common sense, and, of course, what is just and equitable among men, is just and equitable among boys.

“You must remember that whenever any thing belonging to one boy is intrusted to another in any way, if it is for the benefit of the bailee, if any accident happens to it, he must make it good; unless it was some inevitable accident, which could not have been prevented by the utmost care. If it is for the benefit of the bailor, that is, the boy who intrusts it, then he can’t require the other to pay for it, unless he was grossly negligent. And if it was for the common benefit of both, then if the bailee takes what may be called good care of it, he is not liable to pay; if he does not take good care, he is.”

Here ended the lecture on the law of bailment. James soon after went home, and Rollo in due time went to bed. The next morning, when he got up and began to dress himself, he thought one of the legs of his pantaloons felt somewhat heavy. He put his hand down to ascertain what was there, and he felt something at the bottom, between the cloth and the lining. It was Sarah’s pocket-book. When Rollo put it into his pocket, as he thought, he in reality slipped it inside of the lining, and it worked itself down to the bottom, as he was playing about. He pulled it out, and then, after he had dressed himself, he ran very joyfully to his father, to show it to him. His father was very glad that it was found, and told Rollo to carry it to Dorothy. Dorothy was very glad, too, for she was very sorry to have Rollo lose his own wallet, or his father lose his money. So she gave him back his wallet, and he replaced it in his desk where it was before, after giving his father back his money.

CONFUSION

Rollo explained his plan of collecting a museum of curiosities to his cousins Lucy and James, and to his sister Mary, who was a good deal older than he was. He also informed Henry, a playmate of his, who lived not a great way from his father’s house. All the children took a great deal of interest in the scheme, and promised to help him collect the curiosities.

At length, after a few days, Rollo, to his great joy, observed one evening signs of an approaching storm. The wind sighed through the trees, and thick, hazy clouds spread themselves over the sky.

“Don’t you think it is going to rain?” said Rollo to his father, as he came in to tea.

“I don’t know,” said his father. “Which way is the wind?”

“I’ll go and see,” said Rollo.

He went out and looked at the vane which Jonas had placed upon the top of the barn.

When he came in, he told his father that the wind was east. Then his father said he thought it would rain, and Rollo clapped his hands with delight.

And it did rain. The next morning, when Rollo awoke, he heard the storm driving against the window of his chamber. After breakfast, he took an umbrella, and went out into the barn, and found Jonas already at work upon the cabinet. In the course of the morning he finished it. He put three good shelves into it, which, together with the bottom of the box, made four shelves. He also put the two covers on, with hinges, so as to make doors of them; and put a little hasp upon the doors, outside, to fasten them with. He then put it up in one corner of the play room, all ready for the curiosities. Rollo put in his hornets’ nest, his pebble stones, and his hemlock-seed, as he called it; and then went to the barn door, and began to be as eager to have it clear up, as he had been before to have it rain. He wanted to go out and collect some more curiosities.

After a time it did clear up, and Rollo obtained his mother’s leave to go and ask all the children who were going to have a share in the museum, to come one afternoon and begin to collect the curiosities. They all came—Lucy, James, and Henry. And when Rollo saw them all collected in the garden yard, with baskets in their hands all ready to go forth after curiosities, he capered about full of anticipations of delight.

“Now,” said Henry, “let us go down to the hemlock-tree.”

“No,” said Rollo, “it will be better to go to the brook, where I found the pebbles.”

“But I want to go and see if I can’t find another hemlock-seed,” said Henry.

Rollo was, however, very unwilling to go that way, and yet Henry insisted upon it. Lucy listened to the dispute with a countenance expressive of distress and anxiety. First, she proposed to Rollo to yield to Henry, and then to Henry to yield to Rollo; but in vain. Henry said that Rollo ought to let him decide, because he was the oldest; and Rollo said that he himself ought to decide, because it was his museum. They were both wrong. Neither ought to have insisted upon having his own way so strenuously. At length, after quite a long and unpleasant altercation, Lucy proposed that they should draw lots for it. The boys consented.

“I’ll tell you a better plan than that,” said a voice above them. They looked up, and saw Mary sitting at the window of the chamber. She had been reading, but, on hearing this dispute, she had closed her book, and now interposed to do what she could to aid in settling it.

When Rollo heard his sister Mary’s voice, he felt a little ashamed of his pertinacity. Lucy asked Mary what the plan was.

“Why,” said she, “in all expeditions where there are several children, it is very desirable to have a regent.”

“A regent?” said Lucy.

“Yes,” said Mary, “a commander, to take the lead, and decide the thousand little questions which are likely to occur. Unless there is somebody to decide them, there will be endless disputes.”

“Well,” said Henry, “I’ll be regent.”

“No,” said Mary, “you must choose one. I’ll tell you how. You must choose the regent by ballot. Lilac leaves make good ballots. Each one of you must consider who you think will be best for regent,—that is, who will have the most discretion and judgment, to decide wisely, and at the same time be mild and gentle, and amiable in manner, so as to be a pleasant commander. Of course, no one must vote for himself.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Rollo. “What are the lilac leaves for?”

“For ballots; that is, for you to write your votes upon. You can write on the under side of a lilac leaf with the point of a pin.”

“Can we?” said Lucy, with a look of curiosity and pleasure.

“Yes,” said Mary, “you need not write the whole name. You can write the first letter—that will be enough. R. stands for Rollo, L. for Lucy, H. for Henry, J. for James, and N. for Nathan.”

“Ho!” said Rollo, “Nathan won’t do for a regent.”

“Perhaps not,” said Mary; “each one of you must vote for the one you think best. Now get your lilac leaves, and I will drop you down some pins.”

The children ran off very eagerly to get the leaves, and then came back, and Mary dropped down four pins. They each took one, and, with the point of it, wrote a letter upon the back of the leaf. Then Mary asked Nathan to carry around his cap, and let them all drop their leaves into it, and then bring them up to her, and she would see who was chosen.

So Nathan, highly pleased with his office, collected the votes in his cap, and brought them up to his sister Mary. She looked them over as she sat at the window, the children all looking up from below, eagerly awaiting the result. At length, Mary told them that there were four leaves in Nathan’s cap, and that three of them had the letter L upon it. “So,” said she, “you see you have chosen Lucy for regent.”

“Yes, I voted for Lucy,” said Rollo. “I thought she would be the best.”

“And so did I,” said James and Henry.

Lucy looked down, and felt a little embarrassed at finding herself raised so suddenly to the dignity of regent; and she asked Mary what she was to do.

“O, walk along with them just as you would if you had not been chosen; only you will decide all the questions that come up, such as where you shall go, and how long you shall stay in the different places. The others may give you their opinions, if you ask them; but they must let you decide, and they must all submit to your decisions.”

“Well, come,” said Lucy; “we’ll go down the lane first.” So she took hold of Thanny’s hand, and walked along, the other children following. They passed through the great gate, and soon disappeared from Mary’s view.

They were gone two or three hours. At length, when the sun had nearly gone down, Mary heard voices in the front of the house. She left her back window, and went around to a front window to see. She found them returning, and all talking together with the greatest volubility. They had their baskets full of various commodities, and large bouquets of flowers and plants in their hands. They did not see Mary at the window, and as they all seemed to be good-natured and satisfied with their afternoon’s work, Mary did not speak to them; and so they passed along into the yard undisturbed. They proceeded immediately to the cabinet in the play room, and then began to take out their treasures from their baskets, and pockets, and handkerchiefs, and to spread them out upon the floor, and upon the bench. In a short time, the floor was covered with specimens of plants and minerals, with shells, and pebbles, and little papers of sand, and nuts, and birds’ nests which they had found deserted, and all sorts of wonders. The room was filled with the sound of their voices; questions, calls to one another, expressions of delight, exclamations of surprise, or of disappointment or pleasure. It was all,—“James, you are treading on my flowers!” “O Lucy, Lucy, see my toadstool!” “O, now my prettiest shell is broken!” “Move away a little, Rollo—I have not got room for all my pebbles”—“Where’s my silk worm? now where’s my silk worm?” “O Henry, give me some of your birch bark, do,”—and a hundred other similar ejaculations, all uttered together.

They soon began, one and another, to put their curiosities into the cabinet,—and then it was, as the old phrase is, confusion worse confounded. Lucy had some discretion and forbearance, and kept a little back, looking, however, uneasy and distressed, and attempting in vain to get an opportunity to put some of her things in. The boys crowded around the cabinet, each attempting to put his own curiosities into the most conspicuous places, and arranging them over and over again, according as each one’s whims or fancies varied.

“O dear me,” said Rollo, “I wish you would not keep moving these pebbles away, Henry.”

“Why, you put them too far this way,” said Henry; “I want my shells to go here.”

“No,” replied Rollo, “put your shells down on the next shelf. James! James! take care; don’t touch that birds’ nest.”

“Yes, I want room for my silver stone,” said James. He had found a shining stone, which he called a silver stone. And thus they disputed, and talked loudly and vociferously, and contradicted, interrupted, pushed, and crowded each other. Still, they were all good-natured; that is, they were not angry; the difficulty only arose from their eagerness and their numbers,—and their disorganization.

“O dear me,” said Rollo, at length, “I wish we had a regent again; we got along very well, while Lucy was a regent. Let me be regent now. Come, Henry and James, let me be regent, and I will direct, and then we shall have order again.”

“Well,” said James.

“No,” said Henry, “you have not been elected. You can’t be regent, unless you are chosen regularly.”

Lucy said nothing, but stood behind the others in despair.

“Well, then, let Lucy be regent; she was chosen.”

“But I was only chosen regent for the walk,” said Lucy.

“O never mind,” said Rollo, “let her be regent now.”

But Henry was not disposed to submit to any doubtful authority. He kept at work putting things in, in the way that pleased him most, without any regard to Rollo’s proposal for prolonging Lucy’s authority. As Henry did not acquiesce in this proposed measure, Rollo and James seemed to think it was useless for them to do so, and so they went much as they had begun, until they had pretty well filled up Jonas’s cabinet with a perfect medley of specimens, the worthy and the worthless all together. They were at length interrupted by the sound of the bell, calling Rollo in to tea; Henry then went home, and James, Lucy, and Rollo went into the house.