42 Tom Seven Vears Old.

Tom was getting less angry, but could not
yet feel sorry enough to say anything nice.
As soon as breakfast was finished, however,
he slipped off his chair.

“May I go and see him?” he asked ina
hurry. “I want to see him.”

“Certainly,” said Annie. He was scarcely
angry at all now.

“Who's there?” called Bob. “Come in.”

“Good morning,” said Tom. “I wanted
to come and see you for a very particular
reason, that you would never guess.”

“Tsn’t it horrid 2?” said Bob.

“Dear me!” thought Tom; “he’s heard
through the floor. I called him horrid this
very morning.” |

“Isn't it horrid ?” repeated Bob, looking at
his foot. “I was climbing up to that high
shelf to get down my fishing-rod. I don’t
want it quite yet—not till summer, you know:
but I like to take it down every now and
then, and look at it, and clean it.”

The press-door was open. Tom saw the

fishing-rod high up on the shelf.