LITMIR.BIZ

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you want it then?

      Please want it – we like helping."

      There was no one in the nursery, fortunately for Ted's plans. Unfortunately rather, we should perhaps say, for if nurse had been there, she would have asked for what he wanted the little bottle which had held the cod-liver oil, that he had lately left off taking, but of which a few drops still remained.

      Ted climbed on to a chair and reached the shelf where it stood, and in two minutes he was off again, bottle in hand, in triumph. He found Cheviott lying still, where he had left him; he looked up and yawned as Ted appeared, and then growled with an air of satisfaction. It was sometimes a little difficult for Chevie to decide exactly how much care he was to take of Ted. After all, a little two-legged boy that could talk was not quite the same as a lamb, or even a sheep. He could not run round him barking, to prevent his trotting where he wished – there were plainly some things Ted had to do with and understood which Chevie's dog-experience did not reach to.

      So Cheviott lay there and blinked his honest eyes in the sunshine, and stared at Ted and wondered what he was after now! For Ted was in a very tip-top state of delight! He sat down cross-legged on the grass, drew the delicious big shears to him – they were heavy for him even to pull – and uncorking the bottle of "fissy" oil, began operations.

      "Zem is sticked fast, to be soore," he said to himself, adopting David's favourite expression, as he tugged and tugged in vain. "If thoo could hold one side and Ted the other, they would soon come loosened," he observed to Cheviott. But Cheviott only growled faintly and blinked at his master sleepily, and after a good deal more tugging Ted did manage to open the shears, which indeed at last flew apart so sharply that the boy toppled over with the shock, and rolled for a moment or two on the grass, though happily not on the shears, before he recovered his balance.

      Laughing merrily, he pulled himself up again. Luckily the bottle had not been overturned. Ted poured a drop or two carefully on to his fingers, quite regardless of the fishy smell, and proceeded to anoint the scissors. This he repeated several times, polishing them all over till they shone, but not understanding that the place where the oil was needed was the hinge, he directed the best of his attention to the general shininess.

      Then he sat and looked at them admiringly.

      "Won't David be p'eased?" he said. "Zem's oilened all over now. Ted must see if they don't sticken fast now."

      With nearly as much difficulty as he had had to open them, Ted now managed to shut them.

      "Zem's better," thought the busy little man, "but Ted must see how they cut."

      He laid them flat on the grass, at a place where the blades had not been completely sheared by the scythe. Tug number one – the oil had really done some good, they opened more easily – tug number two, behold them gaping – tug number three, they bite the grass, and Ted is just going to shout in triumph when a quick shock of pain stabs through him. He had been kneeling almost on the shears, and their cruel jaws had snipped, with the grass, the tender fleshy part of his poor little leg!

      It was not the pain that frightened him so much as the feeling held fast by the now dreadful scissors.

      "David, David," he cried, "oh, please come. Nurse, please come. Ted has cuttened hisself."

      His little voice sounded clear and shrill in the summer quiet of the peaceful garden, and nurse, who had been hastening to come out to him, heard it from the open window. David too was on his way back, and poor Ted was soon released. But it was a bad cut – he had to be carried into the house to have it bathed and sponged and tenderly bound up by mother's fingers. He left off crying when he saw how sorry mother looked.

      "Ted is so sorry to t'ouble thoo," he said.

      "And mother is sorry for Ted," she replied. "But, my dear little boy," she went on, when the poor leg was comfortable and its owner forgetting its pain on mother's knee, "don't you remember that mother told you not to touch David's tools?"

      "Oh ses," he replied. "Ted wouldn't touch zem for hisself, but it was to help David," and the innocent confidence with which he looked up in her face went to his mother's heart.

      "But still, dear Ted, you must try to understand that what mother says, you must do exactly. Mother likes you to be kind and helping to people, but still mother knows better than you, and that is why, when she tells you things, you must remember to do what she says."

      Ted looked grave and a little puzzled, and seeing this his mother thought it best to say no more just then. The lesson of obedience was one that Ted found rather puzzling, you see, but what his mother had said had made a mark in his mind. He thought about it often, and as he grew bigger other things happened, as you will hear, to make him think of it still more.

      It was rather a trial to Ted not to be able to run about as usual that afternoon, for had he done so, the cut might have begun to bleed again, so he had to sit still in the nursery, looking out at the window and hoping and hoping that Percy would soon come back. Once David and his barrow passed underneath, and the gardener called up to know if Master Ted's leg was better. Ted shook his head rather dolefully.

      "Him's better," he said, "but Ted can't run about. Ted's so sad, David. Muzzer's got letters to write and Percy's out."

      A kind thought struck David. He went round to the drawing-room window and tapped at it gently. Ted's mother was writing there. Might he wheel Master Ted in his barrow to the part of the garden where he was working? – he would take good care of him – "the little gentleman never cut himself if I with him – no, indeed; I make him safe enough."

      And Ted's mother consented gladly. So in a few minutes he was comfortably installed on a nice heap of dry grass, with Cheviott close beside him and David near at hand.

      "You never touch my tools again, Master Ted, for a bit; no, to be sure; do you now?" said David.

      "No," said Ted. "Muzzer says I mustn't. But wasn't the big scissors nicely oilened, David?"

      "Oh, fust rate – ay," said David. "Though I not say it is a cliver smell – no. I not like the smell, Master Ted."

      "Never mind," replied Ted reassuringly. "Ted will ask muzzer for some cock-alone for thoo. Thoo can put some on the scissors."

      "What's that, Master Ted?" inquired David, who was not at all above getting information out of his little master.

      "Cock-alone," repeated Ted. "Oh, it's somesing that smells very nice. I don't know what it is. I thing it must be skeesed out of f'owers. I'll run and get thoo some now, David, this minute," and he was on the point of clambering to his feet when the stiff feeling of his bandaged leg stopped him. "Oh, I forgot," he exclaimed regretfully.

      "Yes indeed, Master Ted. You not walk a great deal to-day, to be sure – no, indeed – for a bit; ay."

      Ted lay still for a minute or two. He was gazing up at the sky, which that afternoon was very pure and beautiful.

      "Who paints the sky, David?" he said suddenly.

      "Well indeed, Master Ted, I not think you ask me such a foolis' question, Master Ted bach!" said David. "Who's make a sky and a sea and everything so?"

      "'Dod," said Ted. "Oh, I know that. But I thoughtened p'raps 'Dod put somebody up there to paint it. It was so pitty last night, David —all tolours – Ted tan't say zem all. Why isn't there many tolours now, David?"

      "I not know for sure," said David, stopping a moment in his work and looking up at the sky.

      "Ted thought," continued the little fellow slowly, "Ted thought p'raps 'Dod's paints was getting done. Could that be why?"

      David was rather matter-of-fact, and I don't know that that made him any the worse a companion for Ted, whose brain was already quite full enough of fancies. So he did not smile at Ted's idea, but answered quite gravely,

      "No indeed, Master Ted, I not think that untall."

      "If on'y Ted could fly," the child continued in a minute or two, as just then a flock of birds made their graceful way between his gazing eyes and the clear blue vault above. "How pittily birds flies,

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