Part 2 (2/2)

He was thinking to himself, ”Mother said, Willie mustn't play wid dat fing--and--and me wants to.”

Poor mother! why do you not wake? See! your little child is getting nearer and nearer to that forbidden plaything.

He leant against the door and held the window-strap in one hand, while his little face grew grave and ashamed. It was not quite so nice to be disobedient as Willie thought it would be.

Mother, mother! why do you not wake? There is something wrong with the fastening of the door, and even the child's light weight has made it s.h.i.+ft a little.

He was peeping down with eager eyes into the depths out of which the window-sash had been drawn.

”I'll send dis strap down dere, and fis' somefing up. S'all I, Boxer?”

The dog stood close beside him, wagging his bushy tail and looking up with two bright loving eyes.

And then the train gave a sudden lurch, the door flew open, and as the child fell forward with a little cry, Boxer sprang after him and seized him by his sailor-collar. Powerless to save his little master from falling, he yet dragged him sideways to the ground, and received the full force of the fall, as they rolled over and over down the long green bank.

And yet mother did not wake! No! not until that motionless bundle--the child and the dog--had been left many miles away.

”Boxer! wake up! It's time for bekfust.”

Boxer did not move.

”I said I was 'samed of you. _Now_ I'm 'sameder. You _are_ a lazy dog!”

And then Willie's eyes opened wider, and he turned over on his bed. His bed? Why! it was soft green gra.s.s! and that was not a bed-curtain up there. It was a tree, and branches of whispering leaves.

Slowly the truth crept into the child's mind, and very slowly it drove two large tears into his blue eyes. Where was mother--dear, dear mother?

He sat up and looked round him. ”Mother! mother! I'm very, _very_ sorry!” he cried; the remembrance of his disobedience being full upon him. But his voice ended in sobs, as he buried his face in the gra.s.s again. ”Oh, mother! Willie _does_ want you so!”

Mother was coming. Her strained, anxious eyes had already discovered the little figure lying stretched upon the ground.

In another moment the pilot-engine had stopped, and she had clasped her darling in her arms--alive--unhurt--and was covering him with kisses, while thankful tears ran down her cheeks.

It was left to Hetty Saunders to stoop down and stroke Boxer's motionless figure, and in that touch to learn how the dear doggie had lost his life for his little master.

[Printer's decoration]

_IT WAS ALL THOSE HORRID BELLOWS!_

A STORY TOLD BY A LITTLE GIRL.

I heard d.i.c.k--he's my biggest brother--learning his ”Rep” the other day.

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