84 Tom Seven Years Old.

running along the passage. ‘“ Don't go up-
stairs till I come.”

Tom waited. They walked upstairs to-
gether.

“Where are you going?” said Tom. “I
want to go to the nursery. I want to see if
my toys are all rightly arranged in the press,
and if anybody has rubbed out the face |
drew on the wall.”

“This is your room,” said she, opening a
door. ‘ Look, Tom.”

Tom stood and looked. There was a little

a te

 

 

Je a: ee terete,

 

new room with a bright fire blazing, and a
little new bed with white curtains, and white
curtains hanging at the window. And there
was his own press for his toys, and on the
top a beautiful new book-shelf, that held his
own books all ina row. And the carpet was
bright red, and the jug and basin had a blue
ribbon painted round them; and over the
mantelpiece was hung a new picture of the
good child Jesus, whom Tom was trying so
hard to be like; and there was a lovely green |
glass vase on the table: and everything