92 Tom Seven Years Old.

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didn’t mean it for myself—there, gardener !
I bought it for you. It’s a present. Do you
think it too big and too sharp for you
gardener ?”

The gardener seemed quite surprised, and
even more pleased than his mamma and
Richard. Tom saw at once he had guessed
right.

“Bless me, Master Tom,” he said, “it zs

 

areal beauty! And I lost mine last week.
I’m so glad of anew one. Thank you.”

Tom danced about still more.

“T told Aunt May so!” he cried. “I said
perhaps your old one was worn out, or per-
haps you had lost it. And you have—how
nice! I must run in and tell mamma about
it. I’ve guessed quite right every time!”

He ran into the house and told her all.
Then he ran out again to see his hen and
rabbits. He had a great deal to do. Every-
one was quite well and happy. Then he
went to the tree by the wall to look for the
nest on the top branch, but it was gone.

One day, soon after, Tom was in his own