Little George lived in a poor village. One summer day George's mother sent him to the field to pick up some dried wood for the fire.
George looked very hard. By the time the sun was high, he was very hot and wished for a cool place to rest and have some food. As he walked along, he found some shade, and by it were some fine, wild strawberries.
"How good these will be with my bread and butter," thought George. He picked up all of the strawberries. As he was lifting the first strawberry to his mouth, he remembered his sick mother, alone in her dark, cold room in the village.
With this in mind, he put the strawberry back again." Shall I save them for her?" he asked himself.
He thought how refreshing they would be for her, yet was still looking at them with a longing eye.
"I will eat half, and take the other half to her," he said. He divided them into two heaps (堆), but each heap looked so small. He put them together again.
"I will only eat one," he thought. But, as he again lifted it to his mouth, he saw that he had taken the finest, and he put it back.
When the sun was beginning to sink, George set out for home. How happy he felt, then, that he had all his strawberries for his sick mother.
He heard his mother's faint voice calling him." Is that you, George? I am glad you have come back. I am thirsty, and am longing for some tea." George ran to her and joyfully offered his wild strawberries.
"And you saved them for your sick mother, didn't you?" said she, laying her hand fondly on his head, with tears in her eyes.
