Part 8 (2/2)
George would have let him go after a bit; but Ned was somewhat greedy, and hankered after the apple, as well as after what he called a bit of _fun_.
”Well, it won't be more than a mouthful apiece,” said Tom, at last.
”Who'll have first bite?” and he took a ripe, red apple from the basket.
”I,” cried Ned at once.
”Well!” said Tom, ”I should have thought you would have let the little lady!”
He looked at George, who at once blinded Ned's eyes. Widely, eagerly, he opened his mouth, to close his teeth upon--a carrot.
People who tease can rarely stand being teased themselves. Frantic with rage, Ned struck out right and left, then das.h.i.+ng the basket over, trampled and smashed the delicious apples with his feet.
Well, the apples had to be paid for, and the boys had to be punished; even mother couldn't overlook such an afternoon's work as _this_.
The boys' pocket-money would be stopped till the two s.h.i.+llings were made up. Threepence a week each, and a month seemed long to look forward to.
Gloomily they leaned over the gate in the evening. Patter, patter, nearer and nearer came little feet. ”Lizababuff has opened her money-box, and here is sixpence for George and sixpence for Ned.”
How they hugged the sun-bonnet! ”Lizzie, you are a brick! But we won't take your money, nor tease you any more!”
”DAISY.”
Far in the Highlands of Scotland, nestling amid their rugged mountains, lay a beautiful farm. Here one of our boys lived with the good old farmer for two or three years, to be taught sheep-farming. Every summer he came to see us; and one year, as we were staying at a country house, he brought us a dear little pet lamb, which he had carried on his shoulder for many a mile across the country. It was a poor little orphan, its mother having died; but Willie had brought her up on warm new milk, which the farmer had given him. We at once named her Daisy, she was so white and fluffy, just like a s...o...b..ll; and twice a day we used to feed her with warm milk out of a bottle. She very quickly got tame, roaming about and following us in our walks. She knew Sunday quite well, and never attempted to go to church with us but once; when we were half way there who should come panting after us but Daisy, so she had to be taken home, and very sulkily lay down beside Hero, the watch-dog, perhaps for a little sympathy. Of course she grew into a very big lamb, and as we had to go back to town for the winter a farmer offered to take Daisy and put her amongst his own flock of sheep. Next summer when we returned the first thing we did was to go and see Daisy. The flock was feeding in a meadow, and as we opened the gate a sheep darted from among them, came straight to us, and bleating out her welcome, trotted home with us. She went back to live with the farmer, and died at a good old age.
CHARLIE'S WORD.
”Well, children, I'll let you go and have this picnic by yourselves if you'll give me your word that you'll behave just as you would do if I were with you. Will you promise?”
”Yes, Nurse, we do promise; and we'll keep our word,” said Algy Parker, ”won't we?” and he turned round to Charlie, Basil, and little Ivy, as if to ask them to confirm his words.
”Yes, we promise,” they repeated eagerly, full of delight to think that they might actually picnic by themselves for a whole day.
”Don't leave the Home Fields, mind,” said Nurse. ”You can't come to much harm there, I should think; and I should be glad of a free day, so as to get the nurseries cleaned out before your mother comes to-morrow; so mind your promise, and take good care of little Miss Ivy.”
In a very short time all was ready. Cook had packed a most tempting lunch of ham sandwiches, plum-cake, and gooseberry turnovers, and this was placed in a basket on Algy's mail-cart; and then off he started, and Charlie and Basil, with little Ivy between them, ran after him down the long avenue, laughing and singing as joyfully as young birds.
The Home Fields lay at the bottom of the avenue, and the children were no sooner in them than Ivy gave a scream of delight. ”The roses, Algy!
The wild roses are out; oh, do pick me some!”
Ivy always got her own way with her brothers; and Algy obediently stopped, threw off his hat, pulled out his clasp-knife, and gathered a good bunch of the delicate blossoms for the little queen.
Charlie did not care for roses; he was better amused with the duck-pond, and began building a little pier for himself with some stones that lay near, much to the disgust of a pair of respectable old ducks, who considered the pond their private property, and very much resented Charlie's operations.
”Just listen to old Mrs. Quack preaching to me,” cried Charlie, smiling to himself as he stood some little way in the pond. As he spoke, however, one of the stones of the pier slipped, and Charlie stumbled right into the water!
What of that?--it is a fine sunny day, and his boots will soon dry again, and he will not be a jot the worse.
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