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— aARCUS WarkD E& CO [ONDOY

AND ROYAL ULSTER WoRKS, BELFAST.

  

Sendnintaniiunienenttnetn be too ote

A ea SE OETA PP SAS ST OSE SIO AS STO sates mr tnananeseeaeesoal

Pm ANAS AK IR RA BEDI LTE ELSON TENSE eSB ASD EMRE

Se ec ee ee
 

 

TOM

SEVEN YEARS OLD

BY
H. RUTHERFURD RUSSELL

AUTHOR OF ‘‘ Tom”

 

Hondo :

MARCUS WARD & CO., 67, CHANDOS STREET
_Anp ROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST
1876
Dedicated

MY LITTLE FRIEND,

GEOFF.
CONTENTS.

 

CHAP. PAGE
I.—[om Wants To BuILD A SHIP. - . |
{I.—Tom Gors To LONDON . oo . . 14
II.—Tom Gors To THE PANTOMIME . . . 24
IV.—Tom Ruys Away . . . . 32
V.—ToM GOES TO THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS . | ~ 48
VI.—ToM GOES TO LOOK FOR CATs . . . 56
VII.—Tom wrirts A LETTER TO THE QUEEN . . 65
VIII.—Tom suys PRESENTS AND GOES Homer 73
IX.—ToM GIVES HIS PRESENTS . . . . 87
X.—TOM HEARS ABOUT THE MARTYRS . . 102
XI.—ToM GIVES UP THE THING HE LIKES BEST . 108
XII.—Tom GoES TO CATCH TADPOLES . . 115
XIII.—Tom pays A VISIT . . : , . 123
AXILV.—TOM LEARNS A NEW LESSON . ~~. , 135
XV.—TOM GETS INTO DISGRACE . , . . 145°
XVJ.—ToM GOES TO SEE ARCHIE’S GRANDPAPA . 155
XVII —ToM MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE . 163
XVIII.—ToM GIVES HIS EARNINGS . . » 175
XIX.—ToM HELPS A POOR BIRD IN DISTRESS . . 181
XX.—TOM MAKES FRIENDS WITH THE BEES . 188

XXI.—Tom MAKES ENEMIES OF THE WASPS . . 196
 

TOM SEVEN YEARS OLD.

 

CHAP. L—TOM WANTS TO BUILD A SHIP.
“Gyasto |

EV G@SSwZ OM was growing very old in-
Bho deed. He had had seven
birthdays. He had seen the
trees and bushes and plants in
the world round him die and
live again seven times, so that
he was no longer surprised at
the sight, and could almost
tell when it was coming. He had counted up
to a hundred stars in the sky, and had found
out that there were many, many, many more
than a hundred, though there was only one
moon, and that a big one. He also knew that
this moon and these stars were not nearly as
small as they looked, and only appeared so be-

 
8 Tom Seven Years Old.

cause they were a long way off, far up above
the clouds, much higher than the lark could fly.
He had learnt a great many names besides his
own—names of animals and birds and fishes,
trees and flowers, the names of all the letters,
and some of the notes on the piano, and even
the names of the countries which lay far away,
outside the garden, and beyond the road.

Tom wanted to go everywhere, and to see
everything. He was quite astonished when
his papa showed him, on a painted map, what
a very little corner of the big, big world he
lived in. Whenever he asked how soon he
might start, he was told—

“ As soon as you have a ship of your own.”

So he seriously began to pick up pieces of
wood to take them to anybody who would
build him a ship, for time was passing, and
he was growing very old, and would soon
be a man.

Every autumn when the swallows flew
away he longed to go with them; but then
they had wings of their own to take them
over the sea, and did not require ships to sail
Tom Wants to Build a Ship. 9

are renee i a eee: - 7
rere i ES uy EGS

 

in. The two pieces of land he wished most
to go to, were freezing cold Iceland, and
burning hot India. He wished to see real live
white bears and roaring lions and tigers with
his own eyes, and not merely in pictures.
And after he had travelled all over Iceland
and India, he meant to go to Arabia, and
ride on the back of a camel across the sandy
desert, and sleep in a white tent at night.

In the drawing-room there were some tall
plants that had come from these hot countries.
They liked to stay indoors by the fire, how-
ever bright the sun might be shining outside,
and however much the flowers in the garden
might be enjoying it. They were different
from them altogether, and had different
names. Also, Tom knew that the oranges
he ate. at dessert were picked off the trees in
these countries, where they grew like apples
on the apple-trees here; and in the drawers
of the cabinet in the study there were rows
of pretty shells which had been found on the
shores far away across the sea. But these.
were not nearly all, for the house was full of
 

10 Tom Seven Years Old.

things brought over in ships. The tea he
drank hot every morning was made with the
dried leaves of a stranger plant, and his papa’s
coffee, though it looked like nothing but a
brown powder when it was put into the coffee-
pot, was really ground from stranger berries
carried over on purpose. Then his dear
cockatoo, which had been given him when
quite a little boy, and the yellow canary in the
next house, were both travellers, and had left
their brothers and sisters behind them to live
in England, where sparrows and thrushes and
robins build their nests.

One evening, Tom had slipped out to pick
up pieces of wood, when his papa met him.

“What are you doing ?” asked he.

“Don’t you remember ?” answered Tom.
“T told you long ago. I’m collecting for my
ship. Come and see what a lot I’ve got.”

His papa followed him to a hole behind
the tool-house, which only Tom and_ the
gardener knew of. There, in a corner, lay a
little heap.

“I'm getting on,” said Tom. “Am I not?
Lom Wants to Build a Ship. 11

 

How much longer must I collect, do you
think ?”

“What a hurry you are in!” exclaimed his
papa. “What do yo": want to run away for ?”

“Qh, papa, think!” said Tom; “think of
all there is to see! White bears, and roaring
lions and tigers!”

“Come along with me,” said his papa.

He opened the gate into the field. Cows
and sheep were busily eating the grass. It
was nice watching them. The cows had
horns, but they never seemed to use them,
and they appeared so sleek and gentle. One
or two raised their heads as Tom passed, and
looked at him kindly out of their large mild
eyes; but the others went on quietly taking
their supper.

“Papa, whispered Tom, not to disturb
them, “I don’t know if cows and sheep aren’t
just as nice animals as lions and tigers, after
all.” :

In the farm-yard cocks and hens and tur-
keys and geese strutted about. They were
not so bright to look at as canaries and
12 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

parrots and cockatoos, but they were very
pretty all the same. And it was delightful
to see each one going his own way, and talk-
ing his own language.

When at last Tom and his papa turned to
go home through the field, the sun was setting
—the same great sun that shines on all
countries, hot and cold, far and near. Instead
of orange-trees or palm-trees before them,
there was a nice green hazel wood full of nuts,
and two oaks covered with dear little acorns
from head to foot. And instead of tall, strange
plants, with bright faces and difficult names,
there were daisies and buttercups and dande-
lions and red sorrel growing in the grass,
Tom jumped about in the sunlight. He did
not feel in such a dreadful hurry to have his
ship built and sail away in it. The sun was
very nice here—it could not be nicer any-
where else—and the daisies and buttercups
that he knew so well, and that knew him so
well, and all friendly cows and sheep, who let
him pat them as he passed, were very nice
also.
Lom Wants to Build a Ship. 13

 

“Papal” cried he, “it’s nice everywhere—
isn’t it ?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered he. “Tom, look
there! Where is the sun going ?”

He pointed to it. It was sinking like a
ball of fire. Tom knew quite well where it
was going, ever since he was a little boy, and
had thought it had fallen amongst the bushes
in the garden, and had run to pick it up.

“Gone,” answered he at once, “to light up
other countries, and open the buds, and warm
other men and creatures, and shine on the
ships going backwards and forwards across
the sea.”

“Good-bye, sun, till to-morrow morning,”
said his papa, going into the house. And
Ton. ..ft off picking up pieces of wood to
build his ship Yor that evening, and went in
also.

 
6 Contents.

CHAP, PAGE
XXII.—ToM READS HIS STORY. . . . 262,

AXIITI,.—Tom DANCES AT MATTY’S WEDDING AND MAKES A

SPEECH .. . . . , . 210
XXIV.—TomM READS ARCHIE’S STORY . . , 218
XXV.—ToM THINKS HE HEARS RoBBERsS . . . 226

XXVI.—Tom Gors BLACKBERRYING, AND MAKES BLAcK-
BERRY JAM , ° . . , 233

XXVII.—Tom PREPARES A NEW SURPRISE . . » 241

 

Illustrations,

Ste RRNA He

THE PANTOMIME (p. 24) . , . Frontispiece.

‘HE WANTS TO GET OUT,” SAID Tom , : + 48
ToM HAD A GREAT DEAL TO TELL HER . . , 102
‘“ THERE THEY ARE!” CRIED ARCHIE . ; . 160

A FALSE ALARM . . , . , 228

 
 

CHAP. II1.—-TOM GOES TO LONDON.

J.T last one morning Tom’s papa said to
KS him—“I am going to London on
Thursday, and you may come with me, if you
like, to see your aunt and cousins.”

Tom would have chosen Iceland or India
or Arabia, had he been asked; but he was
only too happy to go anywhere, and jumped
about clapping his hands. He had seen some
pictures of London, and knew that, though
white bears and roaring lions and tigers did
not generally live there, still there were some
visiting the Zoological Gardens, and he might
perhaps be taken to see them. Besides his
aunt and cousins, he also wanted to see the
Queen on her throne with her crown and
sceptre, and the Lord Mayor in his gold
coach. Just before his box was shut, his
Lom goes to London. 15.

mamma brought in a lot of paper, nicely
ruled, and a new red pencil.

“This, Tom,” she said, “is for you to
write me a journal of the things you see and
hear and like best in London.”

“Qh yes, mamma!” cried Tom; “all
about the roaring lions and tigers and
white bears, and the Queen, with her crown
on, and the Lord Mayor, and my aunt and
cousins.”

“Everything that comes into your head,”
said she, as she packed the paper into a

corner.

Thursday morning came. Tom stood on
the steps with his hat on, and jumped into
the carriage. His mamma had promised to
take care of his hen and rabbits for him till
he came back, and he had run out early
before breakfast and kissed them, and said
good-bye to them.

The train was waiting at the station, just as
though it knew they were coming.

“Papa!” cried Tom, after=sitting still a

minute, “I want my journal. I’ve a great
B
16 Tom Seven Years Old.

deal in my head to write down for mamma.
Where is it ?”

“You can’t get it now,” answered he; “it's
in the luggage van. You must wait till we
arrive.” |

“But I shall forget it all!” cried Tom; ‘it
runs out of my head as fast as itruns in. Oh
dear me!”

There was no help for it, so he could do
nothing but lean back opposite his papa, and
feel quite like a man. He felt still more like
a man when his papa handed him Puzch to
look at, after he had done with it himself.

It was nearly dark when the train ran slowly
into the London station. Tom began to look
about him, but he could see nothing except
a large place with a great number of people
who ran about shouting. He held his papa’s
hand very tight as they crossed to the cab,
and did not talk much while they drove along.
At the front door of the house a lady met
them.

“And this is Tom!” she said, bending
down and kissing him. She was so like his
Zom goes to London. 17

te ee ete

 

mamma, that he was quite glad to give her a
kiss in return.

Then they went into the drawing-room,
where the fire blazed brightly, and there were
a number of little boys and girls. Tom felt
very shy, for he had never seen so many little
boys and girls together at a time, except at a
party. But they not only looked at him, but
came up and said, “ How do you do, Tom ?”

Tom could only answer, “ Quite well, thank
you, without asking them how they were, as
he did not know any of their names. He was
very much surprised to hear them calling his
papa “Uncle Henry,” and was just going to
call out, “He isn’t Uncle Henry; he’s papa,”
when his aunt said to the biggest girl—

“ Annie, take Tom upstairs and give him
his tea. I am sure he must be very hungry.
And you may go also, children.” |

Annie gave her hand to Tom, and led
him out of the room, while the others
followed. Tom looked at her as they went
upstairs.

“You are my cousin,’ he said at last.
18 Tom Seven Years Old.

eae rene

a

“You are all my cousins. What are your
names ?”

“Vou know mine,” said Annie; “and that
is Bob, and Jack, and Henry, and May.”

“Oh dear!” cried Tom, “what a number
of new names! And I’ve learnt so many
already. I wish you had only one among you
all, like Tom.”

Little May looked as if she was going to
cry.

“T don’t want to be called Tom,” she said;
but nobody minded her, because she was the
baby. |

Bob was a big boy, so was Jack. Tom
wanted to ask them a great many questions,
and they wanted to ask him a great many;
but Annie told them to wait till he had
finished his tea. |

Very soon afterwards Tom went to bed.
His journal paper and new red pencil were
lying unpacked at the table, but he was too
sleepy to write. Only he settled in his own
mind, the first thing in the morning, to put,
“Cousins are nice creatures; nicer creatures

 
Lom goes to London. 19

 

to talk to or play with than hens or rabbits.”
However, when he did begin it, some days
alter, he had forgotten this, and wrote in-
stead :—

“Mamma, I’m in London. This is a big,
big place, where the houses run along each
side of the streets like hedges, and the people
who live in them are constantly walking in and
out. I have not yet seen the Lord Mayor's
gold coach pass, or been to the Palace to visit
the Queen. Papa would not let me go in
at the Queen’s front door, though we were
quite close to it yesterday. Annie has written
some of this, because I cannot write fast
enough to say all the things as they come into
my head, and you said I was to tell you
everything. I am going to the Zoological
Gardens on Saturday. I wish to-morrow
was Saturday. We cannot hear the lions or
tigers roaring from here. -Aunt May is like
you, only, of course, not nearly so nice. Bob
is a big boy. He keeps his hands in his
pocket, and whistles like a man. May is
quite a baby, and wears pinafores, and says
20 Tom Seven Years Old.

stupid things. Jack has bought a canary-bird
in acage with his own money. How is my
dear hen and all the rabbits ? I have a cousin
Henry too, but I can’t think of anything to
say about him. Papa took me to his own
tailor to get an Ulster coat. He seems a
very rich man, for, besides having lots of coats
in the window, he had drawers full of stuff
inside to make more. The shop windows
are much bigger than our drawing-room and
dining-room windows. Anyone may stop
and see all that is inside, and if they wish to
take one of the things home with them, they
have only to push open the door, lay the
money on the table, and carry it away. Bob
has not got an Ulster. All his coats are made
at the tailor’s. I wish mine were. I hope my
Ulster will be ready before I go to the Zoo-
logical Gardens, or the Queen’s Palace. All
round the nursery walls are pictures of wild
beasts; but none of my cousins knew if they
were the same beasts who are now visiting
the Zoological Gardens. Isn't it very stupid
of them? Jack showed me his treasure-box ;
Lom goes to London. 21

oe Reeennneea:

 

 

 

it has no key, but is tied round with a piece
of red string; and outside he has printed,
‘My Treasure-Box,’ so that everybody may
know whose it is. He has five marbles—one
a blue one—and a top, and a penknife, and—I
forget the other things. I like Jack the best
—no, I think I like Bob the best. Mamma,
I’ve really settled now what I want to be when
I'm older. Before I came here I used to
think it would be nicest to be a sailor, and
wear a blue jacket and a round hat, and sail
in a ship all day and all night. But, now that
I’ve seen the dear shoe-blacks at the corners
of the streets, I’ve quite settled to be one of
them. I like their red jackets; and they have
a pot of blacking and two brushes of their
very own to do what they like with. I told
Aunt May so when we went in to dessert last
night. Bob wants to be a general, and Jack
a policeman. Papa often says I can never
begin work too soon. When may I really
wear a red jacket, and have a pot of blacking
and two brushes, and be a shoe-black ? Bob
thinks the country is a stupid place, and that
22 Tom Seven Years Old.

apse oer

there is nothing to look at outside. I told
him there was the sky, and ground, and plants
always growing, and trees with birds’ nests
hid in them. It isn’t a stupid place, and
there’s plenty to look at; isn’t there, mamma?
He wouldn’t believe me.

“T sleep in papa’s dressing-room, and have
pink and white curtains to my bed. Aunt
May comes up every night to tuck me up. I
haven't forgotten to say my prayers once.
One day I was very cross—I don’t remember
when. I amnotcross now. We had batter-
pudding for dinner to-day. I hate batter-
pudding. All the others like it. I mean to
bring home a present for Richard and the
gardener when I come, and for somebody else
also, but you must not try to guess who. The
shops are so full of things, I never can settle
what to carry away. Bob has been on the
top of an omnibus. I want to go dreadfully.
There's a great deal more to tell. I haven't
nearly written down everything; but I don’t
happen to have anything very particular in
my head to say at this minute. Oh yes, I
Lom goes to London. 23

remember. I wear my red tie on Sundays.
Jack has a blue one, which I think is much
prettier. I have begged papa to give me one
like it. We are going to the Baker Street
Bazaar. Annie says a bazaar is a large kind
of shop. I have just asked her. My head
is quite empty now; but there’s as much
going on all round just the same. Kiss my
hen and rabbits, and give them plenty to eat.
Remember Annie has written part of this, but
it is what I told her to say. Now I'll stop.”

RON ON Yee

 
 

CHAP. IlI.—TOM GOES TO THE PANTOMIME.

°9T began at eight o’clock, and they would
3 not be home till eleven. Tom had only
once sat up so late before, and that was ata
party. They were all going—every one.
Bob and Annie had seen a pantomime, but
would not tell what it was like. Tom could
not imagine, though he had tried to do so,
ever since he knew he was to go. He had
never even seen the picture of a pantomime, ©
or read about it in any of his books. It was
something quite new.

Tom wore his Ulster. He could not talk
as they drove along, because he was too busy
thinking of it, and of all that was coming.
Outside the cab window the gas in the streets
was flaring much brighter than the stars.
There were even more people walking about
Lom goes to the Pantomime. 25

than in the day, as though they came out
at night like black beetles. At last they
stopped at a great door, where numbers were
already rushing in to see the pantomime.

“Annie,” said his aunt, “take May’s hand
and [ll take Tom’s. Bob, look after the
others.”

They pushed their way along the passage,
and opened the door into a little room, which
looked out ona large one filled with rows-and
rows of people. It seemed to belong to his
aunt, for she sat down at once without asking
anybody.

“ Now, children,” she said, “go to the front,
where you can see best.”

Tom saw before him a great painted picture,
that all the rows of people were staring at.

“Ts that the pantomime ?” he whispered.

Bob shook his head.

“That’s only the curtain. It will pull up,
and then you will see the pantomime.”

Tom had never seen a curtain like it before.
It was not like a window-curtain or a bed-
curtain, and he would never have known it to
26 Tom Seven Years Old.

be a curtain at all. The ladies did not wear
bonnets as they did in church. ‘There were
a great number of little boys and girls, who
looked as though they felt as happy as he did.
‘Tom wondered what their names were, and
how old they were. Suddenly a band struck
up with such a bang of music that it made
him jump, and then the gas blazed of itself,
without anyone touching it. Something very
great was going to happen.

“Look!” whispered Jack, suddenly point-
ing,

The curtain had moved a little in one
corner, They waited a dreadfully long time,
staring as hard as they could. At last up it
went slowly. Tom forgot there was anyone
else near, and gave a great shout. He could
not help it. There, instead of the house-wall,
were rocks, and trees, and the sky, with the
moon shining in it. At first he thought that
they had really broken down the bricks to let
the moon and sky in; but Bob told him it
was not real, but only painted canvas, Sud-
denly whole troops of live, moving fairies—
Lom goes to the Pantomime. 27

 

RL ON nh eco

 

rt a er

just exactly what he knew fairies were like—
ran out and covered the ground. Tom
thought they could not possibly be painted
canvas also, and was very glad to hear they
were real. Some had wings, though they did
not fly with them, but they all danced about,
as only fairies could dance, not like little boys
and girls at parties. Tom thought he could
never be tired of looking. He did not care
to listen so much to what they said, though
the music had stopped playing, and their
voices were quite clear and like other people’s.
There was a prince dressed in a silver coat,
with a gold crown on. Tom wondered
whither he lived in the Palace with the Queen,
and wished his papa had bought him a bright
silver coat like that, instead of his dark black
Ulster. Then came a clown and some other
queer people, with paint on their faces, but
real, and not made of canvas, like the moon
and sky. After making everybody laugh,
the curtain moved slowly down, and covered
them. | |
“Stop it, stop it!” cried Tom, in a great
28 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

hurry. “I want to see it longer—don’t let it
be hid!”

His aunt bent forward, and told him that it
_ would be pulled up in a minute or two, and
he should see them all again. He did not
like to wait even a minute or two for any-
thing; but Annie, and Bob, and Jack, and
Henry, and May, and even his aunt, had to
do the very same.

When the curtain went up in a little while,
the fairies had all run away, and the Prince
was alone. The sky was no longer painted
with a yellow moon shining in it, but was ail
black and dark. The prince had a lovely
green coat on this time, yet he did not look
happy. Tom was surprised that a prince
could ever be unhappy, and was very sorry
for him. The prince turned to all the rows
of people in front of him, but they did not get
up or go to help him.

“What's the matter?” whispered Tom, in
a fright. “What zs the matter? Can't you
run down and see 2”

Bob gave him a nudge.
Zom goes to the Pantomime. 29

ed

 

oo Ae a

“Do be quiet. Listen to what he says.
Don’t bea goose. It’s not real—only acting.”

“The prince zs real,” said Tom; but Bob
was too busy listening and looking to answer.
Tom could not forget the unhappy prince,
even while he laughed with the others at the
clown. There was a great deal of rushing
about and jumping, and then the curtain came
down, and they had to wait again.

Tom was quite puzzled as to what was real
and what was not real, yet he did not like to
ask Bob any more questions. Besides, the
make-believe was just as pretty as the real,
if not prettier. .

“ Never mind, Tom,” said his aunt, in a low
voice. “ You need not be sorry for the prince.
You will see it will all come right in the end.”

“ Are they getting it right now behind the
curtain ?” whispered Tom; and he was more
content to wait, seeing nothing, when he
thought that was what they were doing.

This was the last time it went up at all.
The poor Prince had evidently been made
happier while it was down, for he spoke in -
30 Tom Seven Years Old

 

quite a different manner, and turned his face
to the rows of people, smiling. There was
a princess also, who was dressed far more
grandly than Tom’s mamma or aunt. At the
end the clown and the little fairies ran in
again. Tom could not help asking if they
had been hiding all the time, and had seen all,
or had really been away, but Bob could not
tell him. They did not seem to be tired, for
they began to dance at once, and were still
dancing when the curtain moved down. The
prince and princess stood in the middle, smil-
ing, and appeared quite, quite happy.
“Good-bye, prince ; good-bye, princess.
I’m so glad it’s all right! Good-bye, clown,
!’’ called Tom, while
the boys and girls round were clapping their
hands loudly. Then he clapped his hands
also as loudly as he could, till they were quite
tired. The pantomime was done. It was
time to go home to bed. Everybody was
going home to bed, even the grown-up people.
They went out and back through a passage
intoacab, The gas was still blazing in the

and you funny people
Lom goes to the Pantomime. 31

 

 

 

ed

streets, but it did not seem nearly so bright,
and the people did not look like fairies. Tom
wished he might have pushed behind the cur-
tain, and stayed with them a little longer,
instead of going home.

“Poor fellow!” said his aunt, who was
sitting opposite; “how dreadfully sleepy he
is!” | |

“No, [’m not, really,’ answered Tom,
sitting up; but somehow, just as he said it,
his head dropped down on Annie’s shoulder,
and his eyes shut themselves, and he forgot
everything, even about the fairies.

 
 

CHAP. IV.—TOM RUNS AWAY,

eae round the corner of the street were
WO the Square Gardens. The railings and
trees looked quite black, and there was very
little grass growing. Bob had a new whip,
and wanted to drive a pair of horses along the
gravel walk; so he said to Tom—

“You and Jack will make a nice couple,
and I will be coachman.”

“No,” said Tom; “I don’t want to be
driven by anybody. J shall be coachman.”
-“T’m the eldest,” answered Bob, “and the.
biggest. You ought to giveintome. Come
along.”

Tom did not move, or mean to move
Jack ran up to him, and whispered—

“Never mind. Come along. It’s his

9)

way.
Lom Runs Away. 33

J

“ Never mind,” repeated little May. “ Don’t
be cross, Tom.”

“Tam cross!” said Tom, loudly; “andI. |

will be cross. I don’t like Bob. I wish he
would stop being my cousin.”

“Leave him alone, Jack and May,” called
Bob. “ He’sin a horrid temper. We'll run
along the other end of the walk without him.”

They left Tom standing behind the bushes,
very angry indeed. Annie was sitting on the
seat far away, and had not heard. ‘Tom
thought at first he would go at once and tell
her, and then he settled he would not, because
it would be like a sneak. A nursery-maid
was just opening the garden gate with a key.

“T know what Ill do,” said Tom to him-
self. “If they run away from me, Ill run
away from ¢hem /” and, before it was shut, he
slipped out and crossed over.

“Now,” thought he, “I'll go everywhere,

)

and see everything ;” and he was very glad
that there were no gates with padlocks or
high stiles, as there were in the country, but

that all the streets were open, and he might
34 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

walk wherever he chose outside the houses.
He did not stop till he came to the first shop-
window. It was a china-shop, with all sorts
and shapes of china inside. “Lom saw one
jug and basin which had beautiful pictures of
red roses and green leaves painted on them,
as large as real ones.

“How mamma would like that!” thought
he. “She’s so fond of flowers! I must go in
and carry it away.”

He pushed open the door, and was just
going to pull out the beautiful jug and basin,
when a man came up, and asked what he
wanted.

“T want these, shopman,” said Tom, point-
ing to them. ‘Mamma is so fond of flowers.
. am sure she would like them.”

The man lifted the jug and basin out of
the window. .

“ How much money must | pay for it, shop-
man?” asked Tom. “I’ve got a purse full
of money in my jacket pocket.”

/ He did not answer, but went away and
_ called another man, who was very tall indeed,
Lom Runs Away. 35

 

“Look what a lot I’ve got,’ said Tom,
pouring out his money. “There’s two half-
crowns, and a sixpence, and three threepenny
pieces—I like threepenny pieces—and four |
halfpennies, and a farthing. You mustn’t
touch the farthing, but you may take any of
the others, if you want them, because it’s for
mamma, you know.”

The tall man looked at Tom, and then at
the money, without touching any of it.

“Where do you live, young gentleman ?”
he asked. |

“In the country, shopman,”’ answered Tom.

“But I mean, where do you come from ?”
said he,

“From the Square Gardens,” answered
Tom.

The man looked at the other, and smiled.

—“ Did anyone send you ?” he said.

“Send me?” repeated Tom. ‘No; no-
body knows about them yet. I only saw
them this minute when I was standing out-
side. I am sure mamma would like them.
May I carry them away °”
J

26 Tom Seven Years Odd.

 

 

“Don’t you think, sir,’ said the man, “ they
would be very heavy to carry ?”

Tom bent down, and tried to lift the jug
and basin in both his arms, but he could not.

“Suppose you were to choose something
else,” said the man—‘“just as pretty, but
lighter. Here is a vase with flowers on it.”

“It’s very nice,” said Tom; “but the roses
are not nearly so big, or like real ones.”

The man went away again, and brought
another vase with a bunch of tulips painted
on the centre.

“That will do!” cried Tom. “Thank you,
shopman. How much money is it? Re-
member, don’t touch the farthing; and I’d
rather you didn’t take any of the threepenny
pieces, please.”

The shopman only took away one half-
crown, so that Tom poured the rest back into
his purse. The vase was then wrapped up
carefully in brown paper, and tied with string,
and no one except Tom could have known
what was inside. He did not forget to say,
“Good morning, shopman,” before he went
Lom Runs Away. 37

out. here were a great number of people
passing up and down. Tom did not care
which way he went, as he meant to walk all
over London. Just as he was going to start,
he heard a voice close besidé him saying,
“Aren't you Master Tom?” and, turning
round, he saw the postman—the dear post-
man who had brought him a letter from his
mamma that very morning. He wished he
could say he was not Master Tom, because
he did not want to stop again.

“Isn't it Master Tom of No. 14? Are
you out by yourself ?” said the postman, sur-
prised. “Is there no one with you?”

‘Tom went quite near him, so that he could
whisper.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s me. Tl tell you, but
you mustn't tell anyone else. I’ve run away.
They don’t know where I am. They’e all
in the Square Gardens.”

“That won’t do, Master Tom,” said the
postman. ‘“ You must come back with me.
I’m going to No. 14 just now.”

“Thank you, postman,” said Tom; “but
38 Zom Seven Years Old.

I’m going the other way. I dont mean to
go back yet. I’m not tired.”

“Tired or not, sir,” said he, “you must
just come along with me. They will all be
wondering and fussing to know where you

3)

are.

“Will they?” said Tom. He had been
thinking of himself, and not about them
at all. |

“Yes,” said the postman. “Come along,
sir. I won't bring you any more letters if
you don’t.”

“Qh, dear postman!” cried Tom, “don’t
say that.”

He did so want to walk all over London,
and to see everything, and he did so dislike
going home.

“Well, sir,” said the postman, after waiting
a minute, “I must go. If you won’t come
with me, I’m very sorry; but I can’t bring
you any more letters.”

Tom dashed after him before it was too
late.

“Tl go with you—wait a minute—here |
Tom Runs Away. — 39

3)

am,” said he, running by his side. As soon
as they reached the steps, the front door
opened, and his aunt ran out.

“Oh, Tom!” she cried, “where “ave you
been? We've had such a fright about you!
What made you run away ?”

“IT haven't been a long way off,’ answered
Tom; “not nearly so far as I wanted. I
wished to walk all over London, and see
everything.”

Annie, and Henry, and Jack, and May now
came rushing down stairs to know where he
had been, and even Bob seemed eager to
hear.

“Dear me!” cried Tom; “how happy you
allseem to see me! I’m glad of that.”

“No, Ton,” said his papa; “you need not
be glad. See what a fright you have given
your aunt. Think how unkind it is to frighten
anybody. Promise that you will never run
away again.”

“Well,” said Tom, after thinking a minute,
“as 1 am here now, I promise I won't run
away again. But I’m very sorry I ever came
AO Tom Seven Years Old.

 

back. I did so want to walk all over London,
and see everything.’

Tom was still very angry indeed with
Bob. He had begun being angry, and could
not stop. He always paid his papa a visit
in his room before breakfast.

“Papa,” he asked, “don’t you think Bob
is a dreadfully horrid boy ?”

“Have you been quarrelling?” asked his
papa.

“T haven't seen him this morning,” said
Tom.

“ But yesterday; can you remember ?”

“Fle quarrelled with me. I didn’t quarrel
with him,” said Tom. ‘“ He wanted me to
be his horse, and to drive me, and I said |
wouldn't, papa. I asked you long ago if
you didnt think Bob a dreadfully horrid
boy, and you wouldn't tell me. I am sure
you do—don't you? I dislike him vzery
much—as much as I dislike eating batter-
pudding.”

“Tom,” said his papa, “shut your eyes and
think a minute. If your mamma were here,
fom Runs Away. AI

 

 

and heard you say that, what would she
answer ?”

“T needn’t shut my eyes and think,” said
Tom; “because I know quite well without
doing either. She would be very sorry. She
is always wanting me to love people, instead
of disliking them.”

“Well,” said his papa, “go upstairs now.
Your breakfast will be ready. Try and do
what she would like you best to do—the
thing that would make her happy, and not
sorry.” |

“But shes a long way off, and won't
know !” cried Tom, who was glad at that
minute to think so.

“ Never mind,” answered his papa. “You
_ can keep it a great secret all to yourself.”

Tom walked slowly upstairs. He knew
he must try to stop being angry before he
reached the landing. [he children were all
in the nursery, excepting Bob. |

“Poor Bob!” said Annie ; “he has sprained
his ankle, and can’t get up. He will have to
lie still till the afternoon.”
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.
Lom Runs Away. 43

 

“Bob,” he said, after a minute, “I’ve been
thinking. Tl tell you what I'll do. Ill push
the table in, and jump on it and fetch it down,
and we'll clean it together !”

Bob raised himself on his elbow. His eyes
brightened with pleasure.

“Oh, Tom!” he said, eagerly, “do you
think you could? ‘Take the things off the
table first—there, push it gently—more to
the side. Now don’t fall and sprain your
ankle also.”

Tom had climbed up, and stood quite close
to the shelf. Neither of them said a word
while he slowly climbed down again, and
landed safe and sound on the floor. Bob
stretched out his hands to receive it, then
looked at it carefully all over.

“It’s very dusty—yjust see,” he said;
“dreadfully dusty. It would never have
done to have left it longer. You shall rub
one part while I do another. There, let's
begin at once.”

Tom was quite ready. He was not at all
angry now. He pulled out his handkerchief,
44 Tom Seven Years Old.

-and began to work with all his might He
liked rubbing.

“Uncle Charlie gave it me,” said Bob,
rubbing also. “Isn’t it a beauty? I hope
to have some good fishing this year. Uncle
Charlie is going to ask me down to see him.
He promised.”

“ But,” said Tom, stopping to take breath,
“there must be a great many rivers in London
quite full of fish, for I’ve seen shops with
loads and loads of them.”

“Haven't you learnt geography?” said
Bob. “Don’t you know the river London
is built on? I learnt it long ago. I[ hate
oeography. ” | |

“Stop a minute,” said Tom, “while I
think. It begins witha T. It isn’t Tartary
—that’s a place; or turpentine—that’s a stuff.
I know! Its the Thames.”

They rubbed a minute or two without
speaking.

“Bob, said ‘Tom at last, “I want you to
tell me something, if it isn’t a secret. Were
you dreadfully angry with me yesterday ?”
Lom Runs Away. A5

 

 

“Yesterday ?” repeated Bob, “I can’t
remember. What happened yesterday ?”

“In the morning we pasted pictures into
Jack's picture-book,” said Tom; “and we had
an apple-pie for dinner, and I wouldn’t be
your horse in the Square Gardens, and ran
away out of the gate—don’t you remember 2”

‘Yes, of course,” said Bob; “and we looked
for you behind every bush, and thought you
were hiding, and Annie said she was afraid
you might be run over, and was frightened at
what mamma would say. But I forget about
being angry.”

“Well,” said Tom, “I didn’t mean to tel]
you, but I've changed my mind. J was very
angry with you yesterday, and I called you a
dreadfully horrid boy this very morning to
papa in his room. And I meant to write it
down in my journal before going to bed.” He
stopped.

“ And why do you tell me all this?” asked
Bob, working at his fishing-rod.

“You haven't waited for the end, or you
would understand,” said Tom; “because I’ve
46 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

 

changed my mind again in this also, and |
wanted you to hear. I dow’¢ think you a
dreadfully horrid boy at all, ever since |
began to rub. And I'll tell papa so the next
time I see him. And I'll not put it in my
journal. And I like you very much !”

“JT like you,’ said Bob. “I liked you
pushing the table up to the press, and stand-
ing on it. And you've rubbed beautifully. I
wish Uncle Charlie could see it while it is
clean. It couldn’t be better. Thank you,
Tom,”

“Don't thank me,” said Tom. “I did it
for a very particular reason, which you will
never find out. I wish I could tell papa,
though.”

“He's gone away,” said Bob. “I heard
him say he had to go a long way off, and
wouldn’t be back till ten o’clock this evening.
Ten or half-past ten, he said.”

“Oh dear me!” cried Tom; “and I wanted
to tell him something !”

“Write a letter,” said Bob; “ that’s the way
I do when I’ve anything important to say.
Lom Runs Away. 47

 

 

Be
Put it on his dressing-table, and write, ‘Read

this at once, please,’ in large letters on the
outside, so as to catch his eye when he first
goes into the room.”

“T will!” cried Tom; “that’s just what I’ll
do.” )
And before bed-time he had carried his
letter into his papa’s room. On the outside
was printed—

“ Read this at once, please.”

And in the inside was written—

“Papa, I did it. I am sure mamma would
have been happy, and not sorry, had she been
inside me, and known all. I like him now,
and lifted down his rod from the top shelf,
and we cleaned it together. And he zs zota
dreadfully horrid boy, as I told you. And I-
promised to let you know that he isn’t, papa.”

a ~FS

CF LOR

5) \, b
CIWS
» Ne ed Py S :
 

CHAP. V.—TOM GOES TO THE ZOOLOGICAL
GARDENS.

SVSHE day came at last. It was very long

, incoming. The sun shone on the streets
and squares. Tom was glad, not merely for
his own sake, but for the sake of all the strange
birds and beasts who had travelled a long
way from the hot countries. As soon as he
passed through the gate, he saw the houses
and gardens of the different creatures scattered
about, who either lived by themselves or in
large families together. They had men-
servants of their own kept on purpose to
attend to them, and clean out their houses, and
bring them their meals. Tom ran on in front
_to the lion’s den. He would have known him
anywhere to be the king of all the other
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)

SAID Tom

3

T,

‘“** HE WANTS TO GET OU
The Zoological Gardens. 49

nn a rr rr a

animals. He was pacing restlessly up and
down.

“He wants to get out,” said Tom to the
lion’s man-servant. “It is such a little place
to walk in. Can’t you open his door ?”

“T daresay he does, sir,” said the man. “I
daresay they all do. But what would become
of us if the wild beasts were allowed to run
about free ?”

“Oh!” said Tom, “if you are afraid,
couldn’t you open his door quickly, and then
run away? It’s a shame that a king in his
own country should be kept a prisoner here!
How sorry he must be that he ever visited
England, and how he must wish to go back !”

The man told him that the lion liked beef
and mutton for his dinner, just as he did, only |
he preferred eating it raw, and not cooked in
kitchens.

Tom wondered at his taste. In the next
den there was another lion lying fast asleep.
Tom was glad to think he could sleep, and
was not too unhappy in such a miserable little
home. Close beside him lived the tigers and
50 Tom Seven Years Old.

nen

leopards. They wore beautiful yellow and
black skins, much grander than the lion’s.

“ They are not kings,” cried Tom. “ Any
one can see that, in spite of their fine dress.
But they look like princes. Our cats have
the same faces, only not so fierce. I am afraid
they’re angry also with the English for keep-
ing them shut up. Oh dear me! I wish I
could go round and let them all out!”

He could not settle whether he admired the
tiger’s striped skin or the leopard’s spotted
one most. His own stockings were generally
striped, but he had a white neck-tie spotted
with purple. |

The white bear was a great soft creature,
who seemed very fond of bathing, for he was
splashing in and out of the water the whole
time they stood there, and did not notice
them at all. His fur was as white as the ice
and snow of the land he came from, but his
face looked rather stupid, as though he never
thought of anything. Tom was glad to know
what he was like, but did not care to stay and
talk to him.
Lhe Zoological Gardens. 51

The next house belonged to the monkeys.
Tom had once or twice seen a funny little
brown monkey on the top of an organ; but
here were whole families of them making such
a noise, and tumbling about like children.
The air was quite warm, and they did not
seem to wish to go out of doors. As soon
as they saw Tom with his bag of nuts, they
_ stretched out their hands to get some.

“Stop!” cried Tom, “stop! Don’t be in
such a hurry. I can’t feed you all at once.
Oh, old monkey, how you do snatch at it!
Don't you know it’s very rude to snatch? I
am sure you are enough of a man to know
that. Your eyes are just like a man’s. Now
don’t look at me any longer. I’m going to
walk down the room. You'll make yourself
ill if you eat so much.”

The monkeys watched him pass, and still
kept stretching out their funny, brown fingers,
so that Tom had often to stop and put a nut
in them. One or two sat quite quiet, and
without asking for anything; but still they
did not look unhappy like the lions, or cross
52 Tom Seven Years Old.

a
——- es

like the tigers and leopards. Tom felt almost
sure they did not dislike visiting England,
and might even perhaps come back of their
own accord. Most of them had brown ana
orey skins, but there was one in pure white,
with soft, pink hands, and gentle manners.

“You've been well brought up,” said Tom.
“you are a gentleman! I suppose that's
why you have a house of your own to live in,
because you find the others too rough and
rude. Can't you teach them not to speak so
loud, or snatch so rudely ?”

He was quite glad to get out into the quiet,
open air, where he could only hear himself
talking, and the cry of a strange creature
every now and then. But the minute he went
into the parrots’ house the noise began worse
than ever. The parrots did not chirp or sing
like other birds—they screamed, and they all
screamed together. Tom was astonished at
the beautiful colours they were dressed in:
some were as red as the scarlet geraniums at
home, and some were as yellow as the butter-
cups.
The Zoological Gardens. 53

 

“Oh, papa!” he cried, after looking at
them; “no one but God could have made
them! No one else could have thought of
such shapes and feathers! How beautiful
they must look flying about, as green as the
leaves and as blue as the sky!”

There were some very small, like little
round balls of down, who were even brighter
and more carefully made than the bigger ones.
But these were not nearly all the birds. There
were a number of others, who lived alone or
with their families in little houses of their own.
Tom noticed some tall ones walking quietly
in their gardens with necks like swans, only
much longer, and with difficult names that he .
could not read. None of them had such
beautiful feathers or such ugly voices as the
parrots. He was very much astonished at
the number of different creatures that lived
in the world, for he had no idea that God had
made so many.

The poor elephants looked very shabby and
dusty, as though they had worn their skins too
long, and required new ones. ‘Tom thought
5A Tom Seven Years Old.

their shapes as ugly as the shapes of the
birds were beautiful. The ugliest of all was
the rhinoceros. He had a shape of his own,
like no other, which was absolutely hideous.

“T hope,” said Tom, as they left his house,
“that he doesn’t guess how ugly he is, and
that nobody will ever tell him. I am glad he
isn't allowed to walk about, or go into the
birds’ house, because I’m afraid he might then
find out, and be sorry. And even now he
looks very dull, poor beast!”

Tom saw a great many other creatures—
the camel, that he was going to ride upon
across the desert ; and the serpents, who look
so gentle, and can be so cruel; and the smooth,
wet seals, who liked bathing even better than
the white bear, and whose skins, when dry,
were worn by so many people to keep them
warm in winter. Tom settled that he pre-
ferred looking at the birds, they were so beau-
tiful; and playing with the monkeys, they were
so funny; but he was too sorry for the lions
—such grand kings being shut up like

prisoners—even to bear to think of them.
The Zoological Gardens. 55

 

“Of course,” he said, “the men-servants.
can do nothing. I understand that; but
couldn't the Queen let them out, papa ?”

He was very sorry to go, after having just
become acquainted with so many new crea-
tures in their own homes; but he had to
return to his own.

When his aunt came up to see him at bed-
time, he had been thinking a great deal about
them.

“Aunt,” he said, “the God that made all
the live beasts and birds in the Zoological
Gardens must be a very great God. I did
not know He was so great till this afternoon.
But I am sure He must be unhappy to see
them shut up like that. He never shuts any
one up, and nobody can like it. When I’m
a man, and go in my own ship to Iceland,
and India, and Arabia, I mean to take them
all back with me—that’s what I mean. to do!
Oh! I wish some one would let them know I
was coming !” |
 

CHAP, VI.—TOM GOES TO LOOK FOR CATS.

°) OB was soon quite well again, and able

 

to walk about.

“Tom,” he whispered, one day, as they sat |
at dinner; “come upstairs directly afterwards
—J] want you.”

It was raining—for it rained in London
just as it did in the country—and the children
were not allowed to go out. Tom saw by
Bob’s way of whispering and the nudge he
gave him that it was a secret, so as soon as
he had swallowed his last mouthful he gave
him a nudge in return, and said in a low voice,
“T’'m ready.”

They waited till the others were moving
away, then Bob took him upstairs to an empty
-garret, where there was a small window
opening on to the roof.
Lom goes to look for Cats. 57

rT

 

 

 

“Look,” he said, pointing to it, and still
whispering, though there was nobody in the
room; “that’s where they come, I’m certain—
just outside on the slates. Didn’t you hear
them last night ?” |

“Hear what?” whispered Tom, _half-
frightened. “Do you mean robbers ?”

“No,” answered Bob; “not robbers. Cats
—cats squalling. Didn’t you hear them ?”

Tom could not say he did. He never
heard any noises at night after he was in bed.

“Now,” said Bob, “look here. They've
a perfect right to squall, and I don’t want
to interfere with them; but what I say 1s,
they've no right to join together to squall
there. It disturbs ever so many people. Do
you see that box? I want you to push me
up. I must see what’s outside.”

They shoved the box close to the wall, and
Bob stood on it. Then Tom helped to push
him. |

“That'll do,” said Bob, after looking out-
side carefully. “ Just what I thought. There’s
a deep gutter, and a railing along the top, I
58 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

expect they meet round the chimney. Tom,”
he whispered, “I mean to get up in the
middle of the night, and come upstairs, and
send them away. Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” whispered Tom; “I will.”

“To-night,” said Bob. “ You promise?
It wouldn’t do to change your mind at the
last, you know. And we must take our boots
off, that nobody may hear. I’ve got a candle;
I begged Ann to give it me; but we mustn’t
light it till we get into the room. In the
middle of the night—you promise ?”

“ But if I don’t wake ?” said Tom.

“ Never mind,” he answered ; “I’ll manage
that. At the right hour I’ll go to your door,
and knock three times softly. Then you
must get out of bed and come outside, and
youll find me there. You mustn’t keep me
Waiting, or say a word—not even in a whisper
—or theyll hear, you know. You promise ?”

“T promise,” said Tom, solemnly.

“Fancy, said Bob, aloud, “what a thing
it would be if we were really to send them
away! It would be a public service. The
Lom goes to look for Cats. 59

 

sleep of the public is disturbed with their
squalling. I don’t think I need go outside
myself, if I poke at them with a stick. I
won't hurt them, you know—only give them a
good fright, so that they mayn’t collect round
that chimney again.”

‘“Flave you got a stick ?” asked Tom.

“ Yes,’ said Bob; “a beauty. I found it
a year ago, in the Square Gardens, under a
bush. ‘The gardener said I might take it,
and it’s been the greatest comfort to me ever
since. Come down and I'll show it you.”

They left the box standing by the window,
so as to be ready. Bob took Tom into his
room, and showed him the stick. It was
kept in a secret corner of the press,

“Wed better go back now,” said he, “or
the others will be wondering where we are.”

Night came, and at last bed-time. When-
ever Tom looked at Bob, he thought of the
cats; and whenever Bob looked at him, Tom
knew he was thinking of them also. After
they had said good-night, and were just going
upstairs, Bob whispered—
60 Zom p Seven Years Old.

 

‘“ Remember—in the middle of the night —
three knocks. Come outside at once; but
don’t make any noise, you know.”

Tom nodded. They went to bed. Tom
always meant to lie awake a little to think,
but somehow he never could manage it. He
was in the middle of a funny dream, when he
suddenly jumped up with a great start. Some-
body wads knocking at the door. The first
minute he was frightened, but the next he
remembered it was only Bob. It was very
cold, and very dark. While he was huddling
on some of his clothes, he began to wish he
had never promised. After all, what did it
matter if a thousand cats met round the
chimney to squall? They hurt nobody. In
the meantime, Bob was growing impatient.
He whispered through the keyhole—

“T say, Tom, whatatime youare! Aren't
you coming P”

“Flere I am,” whispered Tom, opening the
door softly, and shivering all over.

It was quite black outside; the stairs were
quite black, and so was Bob. }
 

fom goes to look for Cats. 61

“We'll never be able to see,” said Tom.

“Hush!” answered Bob. “Of course not,
We must feel. I’ve got the candle, but I’m
not going to light it till we get to the top.”

Tom thought in his heart they would never
get there. They crept along slowly. The
clock in the passage ticked much louder than
it did in the day-time. When they were half-
way up Stairs, it nearly frightened Tom out of -
his senses by suddenly striking one.

“I say,” whispered Bob, “if you jump like
that, you'd better go back to bed. Youll
wake everybody.”

“No, I won't,” whispered Tom. “ Really,
_ IT just didn’t know it was coming.” |
They reached the landing. It was quite
_ as dark and quiet. Bob struck a match, and
lit the candle. Tom looked round to see if
there was anybody hiding in the corners, but
there was not. The box had not been moved
from the window.

“IT don’t believe they’re there to-night,”
said Tom. “TI don’t hear anything.”

“Oh yes, they're there,” said Bob. “They
62 Tom Seven Years Old.

couldn't know we were coming. ‘Thats
impossible. Now hold the candle, and
shade it with your hand—so, Push me up
as soon as I’ve got on the box and opened
the window.”

Tom stood ready, shading the candle care-
fully, as he was told. Suddenly a voice called
from outside the room—

“Who's there? Is anyone there ?”

“Bob!” whispered Tom, in a great fright ;
“did you hear that ?”

‘“T won't come down,” said Bob. ‘Hand
me the stick. I’ve just gotatthem. I think
I see one sitting on the slates.”

“Who's there ?” repeated the voice, louder.
“Is anyone there ?”

“ Bob!" whispered Tom, in a greater fright,
“get down—do. Somebody's coming. |
hear them !”

Bob turned round and listened. There
were certainly footsteps moving in the next
‘room.

“It’s Ann,” he whispered. “What a pity!
I was so near them! Blow out the candle,
Tom goes to look for Cats. 63

 

 

Tom, or she'll see us. Don’t move or say a
word.”

Tom blew out the candle. They stood
quite still and quiet. It looked blacker than
ever all round. The footsteps in the next
room stopped moving, and the voice did not
call again.

“She’s gone back to bed,” whispered
Bob, joyfully. “ Hurrah! llystrike another
match.” |

“Stop,” said Tom. “I’ve settled I won't
hold the candle any longer. I don’t believe
there are any cats there. Besides, if there
were, why should you poke at them? Why
shouldn’t they squall ?”

“TI tell you,” said Bob, “ they’ve a right to
squall, but no right to squall here. It dis-
turbs the public sleep, We are doing a
public service.’

“JT don’t care a bit about the public,” said
Tom, “and I’m going down. You had better
come also. It’s very cold and dark.”

Bob stood a minute longer.

“Well,” _ he said at last, “I don’t. think
64 Tom Seven Years Old.

——
ee

 

en re

there can be any there to-night. Its very
strange, though—they couldn’t possibly have
known we were coming ?”

“Come along,” said Tom. “Never mind.

How very dark it is!”

He was shivering all over. They crept
downstairs again. Ann did not hear them.

“If they begin to squall,’ whispered Bob,
in the passage, “I shall certainly go upstairs
again. Everything is so nice and ready, and

I could at least see them all sitting round the
chimney.”

“You may go if you like,” said Tom. “I
won't.”

He only wished to jump into bed, and cover
himself up. It was dreadfully cold outside.

“YT don’t care a bit about the public,”
thought he, when he was in; “but I’m very
sorry for the cats. I can’t imagine how they
can bear staying out on the slates all of their
own accord, with only their day fur-skins on—
nothing more than they wear in the day-time!
How they must freeze, poor things !”
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAP. VII.—-TOM WRITES A LETTER TO THE
QUEEN,

 
  

EYSOM was very sorry indeed to hear that

  

the Lord Mayor scarcely ever drove out
in his gold coach, so that it was no use watch-
ing for it among the other carriages in the
street. He was also very sorry to hear that
he must not go in any day at the front door
of the Palace to visit the Queen, with her
crown and sceptre.

“The Queen,” said his papa, “is the
greatest lady in England, and nobody can
go to visit her unless she herself asks them
to go.”

“And will she ask me?” said Tom. Now
that he had been to the Zoological Gardens,
and could not see the Lord Mayor in his
coach, he most wished to go to her.
66 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

“No,” answered his papa; “I am afraid
not.”

Tom went upstairs very much disappointed.
“Tam sure,” he thought, “if she only knew
how dreadfully I wanted to see her, and that
I was really going home on Saturday, she
would ask me to visit her in her palace at
once.”

Then it suddenly struck him that he might
write to her, and tell her all, and perhaps she
would herself send for him; and then even his
papa said it would be no harm to go.

He ran into the schoolroom, where there
were paper and pens and ink. Annie was
helping little May with her lesson at the other
end of the table.

“Tam going to write a letter,” said Tom.
‘“T won't make any noise.”

He kept his word, writing quite quietly.
The pen went smoothly over the paper, and
the ink did not once run into a round blot.
When it was finished, Tom felt quite proud of
it, it looked so nice and neat—perfectly fit to
send to any queen in any palace. He did not
Loms Letter to the Queen. 67

 

say much, because he did not wish to tire her
with reading too long a letter, or to tire him-
self with writing it.

“My dear Queen,” he wrote, “I do so
dreadfully want to see you with your crown
and sceptre. Papa says I must not go into
the Palace unless you ask me. Will you
please ask me before Saturday, because I am
going to travel home on that day. I live in
the country, and I go to bed at eight o’clock.
It is one of your own postmen who is bring-
ing you this letter.

“T remain, my dear Queen,
“With much love and kisses,

‘Your affectionate Tom.”

He folded it as neatly as he had written it,
and put it into an envelope. Then he wrote
outside—

“For the Queen,
“Tn her own Palace,
“In London,

“The capital of her own country, England.”
63 Tom Seven Years Old.

When he had done this, he ran out of the
room, hiding it in his hand. Annie and
May had not seen it. On the stairs he met
James, the footman, carrying down a coal-
scuttle.

“Oh, James,” said he, “I want you to
give this to the postman to take the very
next time he comes. When will he come
again?” |

James stopped.

“Don’t touch it—don’t touch it!” cried
Tom, in a great fright. “ Your fingers are
black with the coals, and it would never do
for it to arrive dirty.”

“Master Tom,” said he, “whatever have
you been doing? Does your papa know ?”

“Well, why do you ask ?” said Tom.

“You go and show it him first, sir,” said
James, “before you send it. Why, what
an idea, writing to the Queen! However
did it get into your head ?”

“Did you never write to the Queen,
James?” asked Tom. “If you can write, |
and want her to do anything for you, why
Loms Letter to the Queen. ~6o

 

shouldn’t you? But perhaps you have never
wanted her to do anything for you.”

James listened, and looked very much sur-
prised, as though he had never thought of
this before.

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the
front door.

“There he is!” said Tom; “that’s his
knock, I know. I'll run down myself and
ask him.”

He lost no time. The postman was still
on the steps. He had handed in his letters,
and was just turning to go.

“Stop—stop!” cried Tom, quite out of
breath. “Wait a minute. I want you to
take this letter as fast as you can.”

The postman took it, and read what was
written outside. Then he smiled.

“No, Master Tom,” he said, handing it
back. “I couldn’t take it. Not possibly.”

“But,” asked Tom, “aren't you one of the
Queen’s own postmen? Mustn’t you carry
all her letters to her, whether you like or

not?”

 

Bary 5
y f | -
A

 
70 Tom Seven Years Old.

net

“Master Tom,” said he, “have you shown
this to your papa? Does he know youre
sending it ?”

“How funny!” said Tom; ‘that’s just
what James asked. What can that matter
to you, postman ?”

Just then his papa came out of the dining-
room, and saw him.

“Hullo, Tom!” he cried, surprised ; “ what
are you doing at the front door? Talking to
the postman ?”

“ Show it him, sir,” said the postman.

“A letter?” asked his papa. “Have you
got a letter? Who isit from? Let me see.”

Tom did not want to let him see.

“No,” he said, holding it tightly in his
hand. “TIT haven’t got a letter. I wanted to
send one.”

“To send one?” repeated his papa, still
more surprised. “And who were you send-
ing a letter to, Tom? Is it a secret 2”

“Not exactly,” said Tom. “No, And]
haven't sent it. [| only wanted to send it ;
_ but he wouldn’t take it,” |
Lom's Letter to the Queen. 71

ee

Tom’s papa caught him round the waist,
and held him prisoner, laughing.

“ Now,” he said, “I won’t let you go till
you show it me. Come, where is it ?”

“Well, here,” said Tom, slowly. “I sup-
pose I must. Don’t dirty it, please. I should
like to take it home, and show it to mamma.
She would be so pleased to see I could write
a whole letter all by myself without blotting
it.”

His papa read it through, He could
scarcely stand for laughing.

ee

 

“Certainly,” he said; “by all means. Take
it home, and show it to mamma. What made
you think of such a thing, Tom ?”

“TI wanted to go, dreadfully,” said Tom,
“and you wouldn’t let me, unless she asked
me. And so I wrote to ask her to ask me.
Mayn’t I send it, papa?”

“No, answered he; “certainly not. It
would never do.”

Tom did not understand what would never
do. | :

“Well,” said he at last, with a sigh, “I
72 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

won't, then. I’ll give it to mamma instead.
Now that I have written it all through by
myself so nicely, I’d like to send it to some-
body to read. But I would much rather the
Queen herself had got it, for I meant it for
her. And I did so want to visit her in her
palace, and see her sitting on her throne with
her crown and sceptre !”

 
 

CHAP. VIII.—TOM BUYS PRESENTS AND GOES
HOME.

yi

Pe went with his aunt to the Baker
» Street Bazaar to buy his presents for
Richard and the gardener. He was very
sorry he had not asked them what they would
like best before he left home, for he found
it so difficult to settle what to carry away,
among all the things he saw. The bazaar
was like a large shop, just as Annie said, full
of shopmen and shopwomen, with a quantity
of paper and string ready to wrap up the
parcels,

“Now,” said his aunt, “you may walk
where you choose and look about you; but
take care and don't touch anything.”

Tom put his hands behind his back, that
he might be sure not to do so. His aunt
7A Tom Seven Years Old.

re a cS

went one way, and he went another. He.
walked just where he liked, and stopped when
he liked, and looked at the things he liked.
It was very nice to feel that he had a purse
of money in his pocket, and had only to lay
some of it down, and carry away whatever he
wanted. But the longer he stayed, and the
more he saw, the less he could make up his
mind what to take. He remembered it was
not himself he had to please, but Richard and
the gardener. There were some dear little
penwipers, which had red woolly dogs on the
top of them, with black bead eyes—they were
very nice—and he knew the gardener was
fond of dogs, because he had three tiny pup-
pies of his own. Then there were lovely
round glass letter-weights, with pictures of
London inside them. He fancied Richard
might like one of these, but still he could not
be certain. At last his aunt came up to him.
“Well, Tom,” said she, “have you found
what you want? I’m sure I’ve given you
time enough. Are you tired of waiting ?”
“No,” said Tom; “I'm not tired of waiting,
Tom buys Presents. 75

 

but 1 I's m tired of settling. I can’t settle what
to take. I don’t know what Richard and the
gardener would think the nicest.”

“ buy something useful,” said she—“ some-
thing that they can use.”

“Very well,’ said Tom. He was ready to
take anything.

“ Flere’s a nice strong pocket-knife,” said
she. “I think the gardener might like it.
He is sure often to want a knife.”

“Yes,” said Tom, quite pleased. “I'll take
that, shopwoman. I’m sure that would be
nicest. Perhaps he has not got one, or per-
haps his old one is worn out, or he may have
lost it, you know. I wonder I did not take
it when I passed this table a minute ago.
Please wrap it in paper and tie it with string,
shopwoman.”

She did so. He put down the money, and
carried it away. Tom wanted next to buy
some perfume for Richard. There were such
pretty little bottles, that looked full of light-
oreen and yellow wine; but his aunt said she
did not think Richard would care for per-
 

76 Tom Seven Years Old

fume. She advised him to take a white
pencil instead, that never required to be cut
as his did, and was made of smooth, shining
ivory.

“ And it’s nice and short,” said Tom. “It
will go into his waistcoat pocket. Yes, I'll
take that, please. Now I’ve settled. Do
let us go. I don’t care to look any more at
the things that other people are going to
buy.”

They went again into the street. A
number of people passed in and out of the
shop-doors.

“T hope,” said ‘Tom, looking at them, “that
they find it easier to choose what to carry
away than I do.”

“You haven't asked me what I bought,”
said his aunt. ‘ Wouldn’t you like to know ?”

“Ts it a present?” said Tom.

“Ves,” answered she.

“And how did you know what the person
would like best ?” said Tom.

“T guessed,” she answered.

“Oh!” cried Tom, “that’s what I’ve had
Lom buys Presents. 7
to do with Richard and the gardener. I do
hope I have guessed right !”

“When you come into dessert this even-
ing,” said his aunt, “I'll show you what I
bought. You know you are going home to-
morrow.”

“So lam,” said Tom. “I always forget
about to-morrow. To be sure, I shan’t be
here.”

In the evening he dressed with the others,
and went into the dining-room to dessert.
Little May wore a white frock and a pink
sash, and looked like one of the fairies in the
pantomime. On the table lay the present his
aunt had bought at the Baker Street Bazaar
in the morning. It was a brown leather
writing-case, with a lock and key. Tom knew
exactly what was inside, for Bob had one, and
had shown itto him. There were paper and
envelopes, and pens and ink, and a blotting-
book and stamps, and even a long piece of
red sealing-wax. | :

«And who is it for?” said Tom. “ You
must have guessed the person can write.”
78 Tom Seven Years Old.

en

 

“T know he can,” said his aunt; “for he
wrote a letter to the Queen not long ago.”
“Why,” cried Tom, looking up, “that’s
what I did. How funny !”
“Well,” said she; “and I bought it for

3

you.

“Did you?” asked Tom, delighted. “ You
have guessed right! When I saw Bobs, I
wanted one at once exactly like it; and it Is,
I do believe.”

“Not quite,” said Bob. “I have examined.
The key is a little different in shape, and my
sealing-wax is black, and not red.”

“But I think mine is the prettiest!” cried
Tom. “Oh! I do hope Richard and-the
gardener will like their presents as much as |
like mine.”

“Tam quite sure they will,” said his aunt.

“Are you?” answered Tom, kissing her.
“Then I'll not be afraid. You’ve guessed
right once, so it’s not likely you would guess
wrong a second time; is it ?”

Tom wanted very much to see his mamma,

and his hen, and his rabbits, and Richard,
Lom goes Home. 79

 

and the gardener, and the nest in the top
branch of the tree near the wall. He also
wanted very much to stay with his aunt and
cousins, and walk about all the streets of
London, and see everything—so he was both
glad and sorry at the same time. ‘The
day he started was cold. He put on his
Ulster while the others stood looking at
him. He did not mind going half so much
while he had to wear his Ulster; and when
he put his hands into his great warm pockets,
he felt almost altogether glad, and not a
bit sorry.

“T like you very much,” said he to his
cousins. “I know all your names quite well,
and which belongs to which, and how old you

)

are.

“And I like you,” said litth May. “I
didn’t at first. I thought you weren't a nice
Cousin Tom.”

“That was because you were the baby,”
answered he, quickly. “ Never mind; I was
a baby once—I don't remember when—but it

was a long t time e ago.”

eo ee Oe we gS
. Lait teed pee Ue
eed : y Rat co te eth: QR EE A ae
pate pes TN pow. pate UR RUD IE ila ho Se gee
Se ea Bagg Pe ay ety ues BPR oe
PRE ag SPAN Sas“ Be a ite a OO ae
BAe a hes Ca poe we RN SE ET gS
oo Mn Soa " ae Ee
em e
2S he S

  

Bre he
80 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

“Tom,” said Bob, in a whisper, “you re-
collect my saying there were cats outside on
the slates that night °?”

“No,” said Tom. He only remembered
how horribly cold and dark it was, and how
nice it felt getting back into bed.

“But I did, though,” said Bob, nodding his
head. “And Iwas right; there were. Ann
heard them last night, and told me. I mean
to go up again. The box is still there, and
so is my stick. It will be doing the public a
service to send them away.” Tom was glad
he would not be there to go with him. At
the last minute Jack ran up to him with a
little parcel wrapped in newspaper. It was
four marbles out of his treasure-box—one was
the blue one.

“fre you ready, Tom?” called his papa.
“Say good-bye. Don’t wait.”-

Tom said good-bye to each one, and gave
his aunt a great hug.

‘“ Now that you know us,” said she, “and we
know you, you must come back again soon.”

“Yes,” said Tom; “certainly. As soon
Lom goes Home. 81

 

as I’ve seen mamma, and my hen and rabbits,
and Richard and the gardener.”

His aunt gave him a kiss to carry to his
mamma from her, and he promised to keep it
safely, and give it as soon as he arrived, and
had given all his own first.

The train went exactly the same way back
as it had come to London, for Tom perfectly
remembered some fields with ponds in them,
and a garden with a fountain, that he had
passed before. The grass had changed a
little since he had been away, and grown
greener, and the branches of the trees had
begun to live again and sprout into buds.
When they came near the station, Tom could
not sit still He even forgot to put his
hands in his Ulster coat pockets. There
was light enough to see the road and the
hedge.

“Tt’s grown greener too!” cried Tom. “I
can see—I can just see. And there’s the
carriage and the coachman. He doesn’t see
me—he’s looking at the train. Coachman!

coachman !”
af

 

82 Tom Seven Years Old.

“Wait till the train stops,” said his papa.
“Tom, stand still. Don’t get out yet.”

“There’s Richard—dear Richard!” called
Tom. “He’s coming! Here, Richard—here
we are—how do you do? And how is
mamma, and my hen and rabbits ?” |

“ All well, sir,” said Richard, helping them
out, and looking as glad to see them as they
were to see him.

“Does mamma know we're coming ?”
asked Tom, running across the platform.
“ Does she know we're here? How do you
do, coachman? How’s my hen and rabbits,
and mamma ?”

They got into the carriage.

“ All well,” said Tom. “Richard and the
_coachman both say so. I’m very glad. Oh,
what a long way itis! And I can’t see the
changes since I’ve been away. I think the
hedge is greener all the way along. I’m
- almost sure it is. There’s the gate and the
lilac-bushes ; and, papa, look—there’s the
house !”

“Sit still, sit still!” cried his papa; but t
Lom goes Home. 83

 

was no use. Tom did not hear him, and
could not sit still.

The house door was open, and the passage
was light. Tom’s mamma had evidently
known they were near, for she stood ready
waiting. She seemed even happier than
Xichard was to see them. Tom rushed up
the steps. His papa did not keep him back
any longer.

“These kisses are mine!” cried Tom;
“and this one is Aunt May’s, that I promised .
to give; and these are mine again! Oh,
mamma, how nice you look, and how nice
everything looks! I had forgotten how nice
everything was.”

His mamma gave him as many kisses in
return as he gave her. Tom thought he
never would be tired of kissing her. Then
he slipped off her knee, and ran about every-
where, looking at everything. It was too late
to go to his hen and rabbits; but she told
him also that they were quite well, and would
most likely be asleep.

“Wait a minute,” called she, as he was
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
Lom goes Flome. 85

emma atemenennctntone ce a ee a,

looked new and shining, and bright and
snug.

“Mamma!” cried Tom, “it’s just like the
pantomime! The curtain goes up suddenly,
and you see what is behind! And you didn’t
know at all what was coming—nobody could
ever guess what was coming!”

He had to go and kiss her again, she looked
so nice, and everything looked so nice.

“Papa must come up and see all that is
behind the curtain,” said Tom; “only let him
wait till after I’m in bed, and really behind
my own white curtains, and then there will
be me also to see, you know!”

His papa and mamma both came upstairs
after dinner.

“Papa!” cried Tom, as he opened the
door; “ you remember the prince in the silver
coat at the pantomime—you didn’t see him,
but I told you all about it—well, I’m as happy
as him.” |

“You know what I say when I hear you’re
happy ?” said his mamma. “ You know what
I always say; don’t you, Tom 2?”
86 Tom Seven Years Old.

“Yes,” said Tom: “and I’ve done it
already. I did it before I got into my nice
new bed, and I mean to do it again before |
go to sleep.”

“Do what, Tom ?” asked his papa.

“Thank Him,” answered Tom, quickly.
“JT know that’s what mamma means. She's
always thanking God. And there’s so much,
you know. Almost everything in the room
is new. I'll have to begin to-night and finish
to-morrow. I couldn't possibly go over each

thing before I go to sleep.”

 
 

CHAP, IX.—TOM GIVES HIS PRESENTS.

SY8OM’S presents were unpacked out of his
E box, but still wrapped in paper and
tied with string. He knew at once which
was his mamma’s, because it was much longer
and thicker than the other, and which was
Richard’s, because it was rounder, and small
enough to go into his waistcoat pocket, so the
one left was of course the gardener’s. Tom
carried them all carefully down, but did not
tell Richard anything about his, though he
passed close to him at the dining-room
door.

“Good morning, mamma,” he said. Then
he handed her her present. ‘“‘That’s yours.
I hope I’ve guessed right. It took me a long
time to settle what to take away. Do you
like it?” |
88 Lom Seven Years Old.

 

She unwrapped the paper, and drew out
the vase. It really did look beautiful.

“Oh, Tom, how pretty!” she cried. “Is
it for me ?”

“Yes,” said Tom; “I’ve bought it, and
now I’ve given it to you. So it’s yours, and
nobody else’s. Do you like it a little, or very
much ?”

“Very much indeed,” said she, kissing
him; and Tom saw by her face that she
did.

“Well, then, I'll tell you,” said he, going
near to her. “I saw something else that I
think you would have liked better.”

“1 don’t think you did, Tom,” said she.

“Yes,” said Tom; “and I couldn’t carry
it away, it was so heavy.”

“What could it have been ?” said she.

“You've got one upstairs!” cried Tom:
“only uglier, of course, because it wasn’t a
present. nd it’s white all over, on a table
with a marble top. Now you’must have
guessed 1”

“ Not in the least,” said his mamma.
Lom sives his Presents. 89

“Well,” said Tom, “if I tell you, do you
promise to like the vase the best ?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I promise.”

“1lt was a jug and basin,” said Tom—_
“that’s what it was, with red roses painted
round it—so pretty and so heavy, I could
scarcely lift it Are you sorry? Do tell me.
Would you have liked it better than the
vase ?”

 

“No,” answered she at once. “I like the
vase much the best.”

“Really and truly ?” said Tom.

“Really and truly,” repeated she.

“Well,” said Tom, “Tl not think any
more about it then, because, you see, very
likely somebody has carried it away by this
time. Oh, Richard's gone! I wanted to give
him his present.”

“Wait till after breakfast,” said his mamma.

The vase was placed on a white woolly mat
on the table by the window. The light shone
on the red and yellow tulips. Tom began to
think they looked almost as pretty as the
roses round the jug and basin.
aero Lom Seven Years Old.

 

“Now,” cried Tom, when breakfast was
over; “youre going to ring the bell for
Richard, aren’t you? Where's his present ?”

Richard came in.

“‘That’s for you,” said Tom, handing the
pencil. “I wanted to buy a bottle of perfume,
but Aunt May thought you would like that
better. Do you like it 2?”

_ “Thank you, Master Tom,” said Richard,
looking quite pleased. Then he put it in his
pocket.

“T knew it would go in,’ whispered Tom
to his mamma. “I knew it was just the right
size. Richard did not say much; did he ?—
but then he never does. I think he really
likes it; don’t you ?”

His mamma nodded. Tom felt satisfied.

“Now I’m going to the gardener,” cried
he, “to give him his present. I wish I had
a lot more for everybody—it’s such fun giving
presents.”

He ran away. The air in the garden was
much colder than in the house, but still very
nice to breathe. Tom jumped down two
Lom gives his Presents. QI
eee
steps atatime. The gardener was stooping
beside the border.

“ Gardener! gardener!” called Tom, “turn
round. It’s me. Howdo you do? I want
to see my hen and rabbits.”

“You'll find them quite well, Master Tom,”
said the gardener. “I’m glad to see you back
again. What did you think of London?”

“It’s a big place,” said Tom. “The world
must be very big, if it goes on much further —
than London. And on the map it does—
it spreads ever so far lower down, and all
round,”

“Bless me, yes, Master Tom,” said the
gardener, stooping down again. “Didn't you
know that ?”

“Oh, don’t begin to work for a minute!”
cried Tom. “I’ve something to show you.
Do you think this a nice knife ?”

The gardener took it in his hand and looked
at it. Then he shook his head.

“Too big and too sharp for you, Master
Tom,” he said at last; “that’s what I think.”

“Well,” said Tom, dancing about; “I
92 Tom Seven Years Old.

a

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
Lom gives his Presents. 93

nice new room, arranging his toys in his own
press, when he was told there was a young
gentleman in the drawing-room waiting to see
him. It was the boy who lived in the nearest
white house. He met his mamma on the
stairs. She had her bonnet and shawl on.

“I’m going out,” she said. “You must
take care of your visitor, and make him
happy.”

Tom knew quite well how to make himself
happy, because he could tell exactly what he
liked best to do; but he did not know how to
make anybody else happy, and was not sure
if he would be able. He told his mamma so.

“You can, if you try,” she answered; and
Tom promised at least to try, before he ran
into the drawing-room.

His visitor was standing by the fire, with
his hat in his hand. His face was white, and
his eyes were blue, and his boots were very
black and glossy. He was not like Bob, or
Jack, or Henry, or any other boy Tom had
seen.

“What's yourname ?” asked Tom. It was
94 Tom Seven Years Old.

ad

 

the first question he always asked, after say-
ing, “ How do you do?”

_“ Archibald Graham,” answered he. “I’m
called Archie.”

“How old are you?” said Tom. This was
always his second question.

“T shall be eight in May,” he answered.

“T suppose you want to know what I’m
called, and how old Iam,” said Tom. “ Well,
I’m seven, and my name is Tom.”

“Tom,” said Archie, “may I take off my
coat? Mamma said I wasn’t to keep it on
in the house.” |

“Certainly,” said Tom, helping him to pull
it off, “You may do anything you like. I
want you to be happy. Which chair shall I
put it on? You can choose.”

“Vl put it out of sight,” said Archie, carry-
ing it to the ottoman; “it’s tidier.”

“Now,” said Tom, “what would you like
to do next? What do you think would be
_ happiest ?”

Archie walked to the piano, and .Tom fol-
lowed him.
Lom gives his Presen ts. 9 5

“ “Can you lay ?” Archie asked, climbing
on the stool.

“Of course,” said Tom. “Everyone can
play. You've only to put down your hands,
and the noise comes up at once from out of
— its inside.” /

“Why,” cried Archie, “that’s only strum-
ming! Ican play. I’ve learned ‘Pop goes
the Weasel’ and ‘ The Last Rose of Summer.’
Listen.” ,

Tom stood still and listened. Archie
watched his fingers carefully. They moved
slowly among the notes, and did not always
seem to know where to go.

“Why don’t you let your fingers go where
they want?” said Tom at last. “It’s much
easier, and the noise comes up just the
same.”

“How stupid you are!” cried Archie.
“That would be playing wrong notes, of
course—all out of tune.”

Tom did not like to be called stupid. He
liked, instead, to be called very clever indeed.

“Well,” he said:: “show me. Which are
G
96 Tom Seven Years Old.

—
peer ee

 

 

—

the wrong notes, and which are the right
ones ?”

He could see no difference. All the white
looked the same white, and all the black the
same black. |

“T can’t talk in the middle of my tune,”
said Archie. “I'll have to finish it after.
Now don’t you hear the difference? When-
ever there’s a horrid noise, there’s a wrong
note; and whenever there’s a nice noise, it’s a
right one.”

“T see!” cried Tom, after a minute; “you
mustn’t strike them all down together, any-
how. The notes want to choose which they
will go with. It is like mixing potato-soup
and treacle. They’re delicious separate, but
would be very nasty eaten together. I didn’t
know the notes were so particular.”

“Now I’m going back to my tune,” said
Archie. “ Don’t talk, or I shall have to begin
again.”

“Stop!” cried Tom, suddenly remember-
ing his promise; “stop before yoy begin. I
want to ask you a question. Are you happy?”
Zom gives his Presents. 97

 

“é “What a funny boy you are !” said Archie,
laughing. “Why, yes, of course.”

Tom stood quiet again, listening. He
wished Archie did not call him stupid and
funny. He also wished he could play “ Pop
goes the Weasel” and “The Last Rose of
Summer.” He was constantly finding out
what a number of things other boys could
do that he could not do, and it made him
feel uncomfortable. | |

“Is it easy ?” he asked. Archie shook his
head.

“Very difficult indeed. It took me days
and days to get it into my head. I can
remember ‘That’s the way the money goes’
quite well; but it’s ‘Pop goes the weasel’ that
I forget.”

“Archie,” said Tom, when the tune was
finished, “can you paint a picture ?”

“No,” said Archie. “How could 1? I’ve
no paints.”

“T did,” said Tom, quickly; “ long avo,
when I was a very little boy. Can you
repeat any poetry? 1 can.”
98 Tom Seven Years Old.

en

 

 

So can I,” said Archie, slipping off the
stool. “I can say ‘John Gilpin’ right
through without a mistake. Can you ?”
Tom was silent. He could not, and he
did not want to say that he could not.
“Shall I begin ?” asked Archie.
“Oh no,” said Tom; “please don’t; I

 

don’t want to hear it. Then, suddenly remem-
bering his promise, he added, “ Unless it
would make you happy, you know.”

“Not at all,” said Archie. “I came here
to play, not to repeat poetry. What shall
we play at?”

“Whatever you like best,” said Tom, with
a sigh, He was beginning to tire of trying
to make somebody happy.

“Flave you got bricks?” said Archie.
“We might build a house.”

Tom ran up to get them out of his press,
He did not dislike building houses, if he could »
take the nicest bricks. There were only four
long ones to make the roof—all the rest were
small. ‘Tom dragged them near him. They
each built up the walls, leaving two holes, one
Lom gives his Presents. 99

a it 3

 

 

for a door and one for a window. Then
Archie stretched out his hand for a long brick.

“What are you doing?” said Tom. “I
want these for my roof. You can’t have
them.” |

“But I must have them,” said Archie:
“the others are too short. They won’t cover
the top. Look !”

Tom did not need to look. He knew quite
well they would not.

_ “T won't play,” said Archie, suddenly push-
ing the bricks away, “if you don’t let me have
them. It’s no fun.”

“Stop,” said Tom, very slowly. “Here’s
two. IT’ll only keep two for myself—there.
Now, are you happy ?”

“Tt will just do,” said Archie.

They built one chimney to each house, and
a garden in front with a gate. Then Tom
brought down Noah and his family from out
of the ark to live in them. He gave Noah’s
sons and their wives to Archie, but he kept
Noah and his wife to himself, because they
were much the nicest. He took care not to
100 lom Seven Years Olu.

ask him beforehand which he liked the best ;
“for,” he thought, “I can’t give everything
up just to make somebody else happy—that
would be too horrid.”

They were still playing when Tom's
mamma came in.

“Well,” she asked; “and what are you
doing ? Have you been happy ?”

“Have you 2?” said Tom to Archie. “I’ve
asked him ever so many times, mamma.”

Archie nodded. He was too busy to speak,
for one of the pillars of his gate had just

 

fallen down.

Tom sighed. He wished it was bed-time,
that he might tell his mamma that Ze had
not been happy. Before the lamp was lighted
Archie had to go home, because he was not
allowed to be out.late.

“You must come and pay Tom another
visit,’ said Tom’s mamma, tying on_ his
neckerchief—it was a black one spotted with —
white —“ he likes visitors,”

“No, I don't,” said Tom; “and I'll tell

you why afterwards, mamma.”
Jom gives his Presents. 101

 

arses

She looked very much surprised. Archie
laughed.

“Tle is always saying funny things,” he
cried. “TI think you are a very funny boy,
Tom.”

‘Good night, Archie,” said Tom’s mamma.

“ Good-bye,” said Tom. He was very glad
he was going. Archie ran downstairs.

“Tom!” he called from the passage, “you
promised to show me your toys next time I
come. You won't forget; will you ?” |

But Tom did not answer,

 
 

CHAP. X.—TOM HEARS ABOUT THE MARTYRS.

80 M’S mamma was sitting in front of the

L fire.

“Jump on my knee,” she said, as she used
to say when he was a very little boy. Then
she waited for him to speak; he had a great
deal to tell her.

“Mamma,” he began, “I never shall try
to make anyone happy again—it’s so uncom-
fortable. I have to forget myself; and I
can’t find out what they want unless I ask
them; and I can’t be always asking them,
you know.”

“You needn’t ask,” she answered. “You
may watch and see.”

“ But,” said Tom, quickly, “I can’t always
be thinking of other people. I want to please
myself. I don’t want to forget myself.”
99

ER

ST
SSS
er!

‘ SS SSI
RRS Sy}

 

‘*TOM HAD A GREAT DEAL TO TELL H
Zom hears about the Martyrs. 103

—_—-___..

“Tom,” said she, “you love your hen.
Don’t you want her to be happy ?” |

“Very, very happy, of course,” cried
Tom.

“ And you love me,” said she. ‘‘ Wouldn’t
you be glad to do anything I asked you ?”

“Oh,” said Tom, “you couldn't ask me for
anything! Grown-up people have everything
they want. But Archie—lI’ve had to think
what he liked, instead of what I liked, all the
afternoon; and it was dreadful, and I'll never
do it again—never !”

His mamma did not answer. She seemed
to be thinking.

“Tom,” she said at last, “have you never
heard stories of men and women who not
only gave up what they liked, but what they
liked best? And not one thing, but every-
thing. Some lived a great many years ago,
but they are still remembered, and some are
living now.”

She stopped. Tom did not know who
they were. He wondered how they could do
it, He thought how nice things were, and
104 Lom Seven Years Old.

ne a a

 

ARN eomEReS Smee net

how dreadfully he wanted them, and how
horrible it would be to give them up.

“And, Tom,” said his mamma, “these
people who gave up what they liked best,
who gave up the most and the longest, have
got a name that all the world knows them by,
and of which it is proud. Can you guess
what it is ?”

Tom could not.

‘“ Hand me that book,” said she.

He handed it. It was the book she carried
with her to church. She opened a page
and pointed to a word. It began with an
“M,” and had a “Y” in it, and was very
difficult to read; but at last he spelt it out,
“martyrs.”

“Yes,” said his mamma; “these are the
people who loved God and others more than
they loved themselves, and thought more of
them.”

“What did they do?” asked Tom, wonder-
ing. |

“Worked when they wanted to play,” said.
she, “and stayed awake when they wanted
oe

Lom hears about the Martyrs. 105

 

 

to go to sleep ; were hungry, and thirsty, and
cold, and uncomfortable, while trying to help
others; bore pain patiently; willingly did
without the things they wanted most, and
gladly gave up the things they liked best.”

She stopped. She seemed to love them
very much. |

‘“ And what made them do it ?” asked Tom,
still more surprised.

‘“ Love to God and men,” answered she.

Tom sat quite quiet. He was thinking
how glad he was at that minute that his
mamma could not see inside him, he was so
different. He did not believe he could ever
love as they did, or do what they had done.
Nothing could make him. They could not
have wanted the things as dreadfully as he
wanted them, or they would never have been
able to give them up. Then he looked at his
mamma. He knew she had loved God for a
long time, though she had never seen Him,
any more than he had. And he believed she
said prayers to Him in the middle of the day,
all of her own accord, and not only in the
106 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

et A NN

morning and at bed-time, when she must.
He sighed.

“I suppose,” he said, “grown-up people
are not like me inside at all.”

He was hoping that, even though he was so
very old, and so near being a man, there was
time yet for a change to come, and that it
might perhaps come suddenly, without his
knowing beforehand.

“No,” said his mamma, “children also have
been martyrs. Little Toms have given up
the thing they liked best.”

“Have they?” said Tom. He was very
sorry to hear it. It would be like having
lessons all day, trying to please others instead
of pleasing himself; and he did not love any-
one enough for that. Suddenly he noticed
his mamma was looking at him, and it struck
him that she had seen inside him, and knew
how unlike he was to the martyrs, and how
dreadfully he cared for himself, and how he
would rather play about all day, and think of
nobody else, and how he could xo¢ possibly
give up what he liked best,
fom hears about the Martyrs. 107

“No,” said he, looking at her; “I’m dif-
ferent—-quite different, you see.”

“But you must begin to be like them at
once, said she, gravely. “The first time of
trying is always hard, but the second will be
easier, and the third easier still, and at last
you will even come to wish it yourself, with-
out being asked by anybody.”

Tom thought in his heart, “No, never ;”
but he did not say it aloud; neither did he
tell her that he would rather not begin at all,
though it was quite true; and she evidently
did not guess it, for after a minute she said—

“Try to-morrow to give up the thing you
like best, as the martyrs did, Tom.”

“Very well,” answered he slowly, slipping
off her knee. He was afraid to say he would
not; but he could not help feeling glad that
he had still from tea-time to bed-time before
to-morrow began, when he must try to please
others instead of pleasing himself, and give
up the thing he liked best, as the martyrs had
done.
 

| CHAP, XI.—TOM GIVES UP THE THING HE

LIKES BEST.

5 SHE next morning, in the middle of his

breakfast, Tom remembered all about
the martyrs, and how he was going to try
that day to be like them, by making some-
body happy, and giving up what he liked best.
Archie was coming at one o'clock. Tull then,
he thought he would have nothing to do, as
his papa and mamma, being grown-up, had, of
course, everything they wanted. As soon as
his lessons were done he ran to his cupboard.
Far back in a corner was an accordion.
He had thought of it several times in the
middle of his spelling. It had beautiful
sounds inside it, just like a piano, which came
out by squeezing it gently up and down, If
he really wanted to be like the martyrs, and
fom gives up what he likes best. 109

Oe ee ee mn ce nema me. erent te

 

a a NR fet i ¢ eh sn renee

give up the thing he liked best, he knew he
must give up his accordion; and if he really
wanted to make Archie happy instead of
himself, he knew having it would do so. He
was very sorry to know this, and tried hard
to forget it, by pushing it back in a corner
behind a tall box of bricks, where it was quite
hid. Then he ran away as far from it as
possible. His mamma did not seem to re-
collect that he had anything unusual to do
that day, for she had said nothing about it,
and was sitting at her davenport writing, as
she always did. Tom used often to wonder
how it was he forgot the things he wanted to
remember; but now he wondered more how
it was he could not help remembering the
thing he most wanted to forget.

At a quarter to one Archie came. He
wore a thick overcoat, because it was raining
fast.

“After dinner,’ said his mamma, while
he was pulling it off, “you must go up-
stairs and play, for you won't be able to go

4)

out.
110 Zom Seven Years O/d.

 

 

Tom at once thought of the accordion be-
hind the box of bricks in the cupboard.

“T don’t want to play upstairs,” he said
quickly.

“Why, Tom?” asked his mamma, sur-
prised. “ Where would you go, then? You
mustn’t go out.”

- Tom thought of the furthest place possible
away from the cupboard. His mamma would
not allow him to stay in the kitchen, or he
would have named it. He said—

“ The passage by the garden door.”

“No,” answered she; “I can’t have you
play there. It is too cold. You must just
go upstairs to your room when you have had
your dinner.”

For dinner they had roast mutton and
stewed apples, with milk. After they had
finished their second helping, and Tom had
said grace, his mamma told them they might
“run away. Tom walked slowly up the
stairs.

“IT want to see your toys,” said Archie.
“You promised to show them to me.”
 

Lom gives up what he likes best. 111

“No, I won't,” said Tom.

The maid was sitting by the fire, and heard
him.

“You won't what, Master Tom?” she
asked.

“He won't show me his toys,” cried Archie;
“and he promised.” |

“| don’t care,” said Tom; “I won't.”

‘Qh, fie for shame!” said the maid; “how
cross you are!”

Tom stood quiet. He was thinking they
did not know why he would not. Suddenly
he called out— : |

“Don't go there. I won't have you go
near there!” for Archie was moving towards
the cupboard. The maid looked round as-
tonished. ;

“Tf you can’t behave better than that,
Master Tom,” she said, “you mustn’t stay in
the room. You had better go outside into ©
the passage for a minute.”

“Very well,” said Tom; “I'll go, if Archie
may come too.”

He did not want to leave him behind.
HB
II2 Lom Seven Years Old.

“No; certainly not,” said she. ‘ You must
go by yourself.”

Tom walked slowly outside, and stood at
the head of the stairs. He was trying harder
than ever to forget what he could not help
remembering, but it was no use. All the
time he knew that the accordion was close to
him, inside the cupboard, behind the box of
bricks; and that, if he really wanted to be like
the martyrs, and give up the thing he liked
best, he must go back and drag it out, and
hand it to Archie to make him happy.

“And I will!” cried Tom suddenly, in a
loud voice. He ran in before he could change
his mind. Archie was standing by the

window.
“Haven't you been to the cupboard ?”
asked Tom. ‘“ Haven't you seen it ?”

“Seen what ?” said Archie, puzzled.

Tom did not answer, but pulled open the
door quickly, pushed away the box of bricks,
and dragged out the accordion.

“There!” said he. “Takeit. -I’ve given
it to you.”
dom gives up what he likes best. 113

Archie turned quite red, he was so happy.
Tom felt he had really done it.

“Mine?” said Archie. ‘Is it mine ?”

“Yes, said Tom. “Please carry it away
at once. I don’t want to look atit. I might
wish to take it back again, you know.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried Archie. “May I
play one tune—yjust one, to hear how it
sounds ?”

“Very well,” said Tom, “if it is a short
one. There, Ill turn my back.”

Archie took it in both his hands, and Tom
stood with his back to him.

“ Don’t squeeze it too hard,” he said, as he
was beginning ; “it might hurt it.”

The noise rose up beautifully out of its
inside, and filled the whole room.

Tom was thinking what his mamma would
say when she knew that he had really been
like the martyrs, and given up the thing he
liked best.

“Oh, Tom!” cried Archie, when he
stopped; “it’s beautiful !”

He was quite, quite happy.
114 Zom Seven Years Old.

“We'll carry it down now,” said Tom,
“and put it under your coat and hat, because
it’s yours, you know, and no longer mine, and
you must take it away when you go.”

They walked downstairs to the drawing-
room.

“See!” cried Archie, running up to Tom's
mamma; “he’s given ittome! It's mine—
my very own!”

She turned round. Then she looked at
Tom and smiled. She did not say anything
aloud in words, but her eyes said plainly—

“T understand, Tom. You have given up
the thing you liked best, as the martyrs did,
and made somebody else happy instead of
yourself.”

And Tom felt as happy himself as though
he had got his accordion back, or never given
it away. It was a delicious secret between
them. Only in the evening, when he was
saying “Good-night,” he could not help
whispering to her, “Tell papa.”
 

CHAP. XII—TOM GOES TO CATCH TADPOLES.

BYSOM liked tadpoles, they were so ugly

and so interesting; but he wanted very

—TyN

much to watch them turning into frogs, which
he thought were even uglier and more inter-
esting. He had often seen the black heads
and tails of the tadpoles wriggling about in
the dirty ditch-water, and then he had met
dear little ugly frogs, into which they had
erown. But he never happened to be at
hand just at the moment they changed from
the one into the other, and that was precisely
what he wished to see. He thought about it
a good long while, and then he told Archie—

“T’ll carry my tin can—you know which |
mean——down to the ditch, and fill it with
ditch-water. And then I’ll catch a lot of tad-
poles. And then I’ll carry them home and
116 Tom Seven Years Old.

aaa A eS eT et LN CNET REY Ye RRTrRAD

 

put them in the bath at the foot of my bed.
And then I'll sit by and watch till they choose
to turn into frogs,”

Archie thought this a capital plan. He
would have liked to have caught some tad-
poles for himself, and kept them in his own
bath, had not Tom promised to show him
his,

“And they’re all alike,’ said Tom; “at
least I can’t see any difference. But you
must help me. They won't be easy to catch,

 

Im sure.”

The first fine day they started to go to the
ditch. Archie carried the tin can, because
he liked carrying things. ‘Tom ran on first,
because he wanted to find the ditch, and to
see if the tadpoles had not already all changed
into frogs. [he bank was very slippery, and
the grass was very damp, and the ditch was
very full of water. ‘“lom’s boots sank quite
deep in the wet clay. He bent down and
looked in. |

“Don’t rattle the can,” he said, as Archie
came up; “it will frighten them away. Slip
fom goes to catch Tadpoles. 117

een .

down gently. Look, there’s a stone to stand
on.” i |
Archie slipped down and stood beside him.

“Do you see any ?” whispered he.

“Hundreds and hundreds,” said Tom
“Look!”

Archie looked, and saw them.

“We'd better fill the can first,” said he.
‘They dipped it into the ditch.

“See!” cried Archie, forgetting to whisper;
“there's one gone in, I do believe !”

“So there is,” said Tom—‘“a little one.
Hurrah! Now I’m going to put my hands
into the ditch, and gather up handfuls more.”

“Push up your sleeves first,” said Archie.

‘Tom was too busy thinking of the tadpoles
to remember his sleeves, but he did wait to
push them up.

“Tsn’t it nasty under the water?” said
Archie. “Don’t you feel a lot of horrid
creatures slipping through your fingers ? |
How can you?”

“Ves,” said Tom, slowly; “there are a lot
of ditch-creatures slipping through my fingers;
118 Tom Seven Vears Old.

 

 

but I like them. Perhaps they're tadpoles,
you know. Now I’m going to lift my hands
out. Look!”

Archie and Tom both looked ; but there
was nothing to be seen but a piece of stick,
and a blade of grass, and a lot of muddy
water—not a single tadpole. |

“They’ve no bodies,” said Tom; “they've
nothing but heads and tails. ‘That’s what
makes them so difficult to catch. I’m going
to try again. Put the can nearer.”

Archie did so. Then he watched eagerly.
Though he did not like touching the tadpoles
himself, he liked to look at them if another
person touched them, and thought them quite
as ugly and interesting as Tom did. After
trying several times, they really did catch a
good number.

“Now, said Tom, in a great hurry, “we
must take them home at once. I’ve pulled
the bath out ready. They might turn into
frogs while we are carrying them, if we’re
not quick, and that would be dreadful, be-
cause we wouldn’t see, you know.”
Lom goes to catch Tadpoles. 119

 

“You climb up the bank,” said Archie,
“and I'll hand you the can.”

The ditch was very deep. Tom’s boots
were very dirty, and so were his hands, and
so was his face, because he had rubbed his
hands over it. But he did not care a bit
what mess he was in, as long as he got the
tadpoles carried safely home. And they
really did get across the field safely, and
reached the stile; but just as Tom was lift-
ing them carefully over the top bar, the can
upset itself, the water poured on the ground,
and all the dear tadpoles fell out! It was
dreadful, after all their trouble, to lose them.

“What shall we do?” said Archie, in
despair.

“Why,” said Tom, “pick them up, of
course, and put them back.”

“But you can’t put the water back,” said
Archie, dolefully. |

‘“ Look here,” said Tom; ‘you run back to
the ditch and fill the can again, while I stay
and pick them up.”

He was determined not to go without them.
30 Tom Seven Years Old.

Archie was a long time away getting the
water. Tom spread out a corner of his jacket
to lay the tadpoles in, while waiting. He
would have put them into his two pockets,
but he believed he had a little hole in one,
and he did not know which. ‘There was no
erass growing where they fell, so he could see
them quite well; but they were very slippery
to hold after living all their lives in water.
He was just trying to catch the last one,
which would not keep still, when he heard
a voice behind him that he knew, saying—

 

“Why, Tom, what ave you doing ?”

It was his papa’s.

“Oh, don’t shake me,” cried Tom, in a
great fright. “I’ve just got the last. Look
at the dear, ugly things!” |

“What have you got?” asked his papa,
bending down to see.

“Tadpoles,” said Tom; “tadpoles. I’ve
been longing for them for days and days,
and now lve got them. Archie has gone
back to the ditch to fill the can again with
water, because it was all spilt lifting it over
Lom goes to catch Tadpoles. 121

See

the stile. And the tadpoles fell out, so ’m
picking them up—that’s what I’m doing.
And I’m going to carry them home and put
them into my bath, that we may watch them
turning into frogs.”

Just then Archie appeared, quite out of
breath.

“Oh! Pm so glad you’ve come,” said Tom.

“T think one of them is going to turn. He
looks very queer. We mustn’t lose any time.
Look, papa, at that one.”
_ His papa advised him to put them back
into the water at once, and they certainly
appeared much happier when they were
there. Then Archie and Tom went home as
fast as they could, carrying the can between
them.

 

|»

“Don't put them into my bath!” his papa
called after them.

“Oh no, papa!” shouted Tom. “How
could I? I wouldn't see them turn. Of
course not!” |

They arrived at last, and took them straight

upstairs. His mamma came in just as they
122 Zom Seven Years Old.

were pouring the ditch- water into his bath.
She did not look at all pleased.

“My dear Tom,” she said, “what a mess
you are making! What do you want with
tadpoles? You can go to see them in the
ditches.”

“Oh, mamma!” cried Tom, “don’t send
them away, please! I want to see them
really turning into frogs. And this is the
only place I can watch them day and night.
We spilt them once at the stile, and it was
such hard work picking them up.”

“Very well,” said his mamma, “you may
keep them for a little while; but you mustn't
bring any more in—remember.”

So they lived in his bath, and he watched
them closely, whenever he was not at his
breakfast, or dinner, or tea, or at lessons, or
at play, or at sleep at night, or out, or doing
anything else. But he never did see them
change, after all. One of them did turn into
a frog without his observing how,, but the
rest remained tadpoles, till at last, poor dears,
they were emptied back into the ditch.
 

CHAP. XIII.—TOM PAYS A VISIT.

Spe had a friend who lived in a little
grey cottage at the end of the field.

eae,

His name was Benjamin, and he was seventy-
nine years old. He sat all day in the kitchen,
because he had no drawing-room to sit in;
but in the summer, when the sun shone
warmly, his arm-chair was placed in the door-
way, where he could feel the air, and look at
the flowers growing on each side of the gravel
walk ; for there was a little garden in the front
with pansies and wall-flowers, and two sweet-
briar bushes close to the gate. His grand-
daughter Matty was his cook and housemaid
—he had no other servant. She went away
to work elsewhere early in the morning, and
did not come home till late in the evening.
He had also a canary-bird, who sang very
124 Z om Seven Years Old.

loudly in a cage by the window, and a black
cat with green eyes, who did nothing but
sleep all day.

Benjamin was too feeble to work himself,
and too old to care about play, so he sat quiet,
looking at the fire, or reading his Bible with
his spectacles on. Tom liked to run across
the field and pay him a visit. He had only
to knock at the door and say, “It’s me,
Benjamin!” and Benjamin would turn round
and answer, “I’m glad to see you, Master
Tom!” ‘Then Tom would drag out a little
wooden chair, and sit down and look about
him, and stroke the black cat, and talk to the
canary-bird. He knew Benjamin liked to
listen to him talking, because he had told him
so the first visit he paid him. One afternoon
he was reading his Bible when Tom went in.
He never had any other book beside him.

“You're like mamma,” said Tom: “she’s
so fond of the Bible. I don’t care about it so
much; but then I don’t care for reading any
book.”

“But you can say some pieces by heart,
Lom pays a Versit. 125

can't you, Master Tom?” said Benjamin.
“ Maybe you'd repeat a bit to me.”

“Oh yes!” cried Tom, delighted to do so.
“T can say a good many verses. I'll repeat
them all, if you're not tired of them.”

Old Benjamin leant back, and shut his eyes,
to enjoy himself thoroughly. “Tom stood up
in front of him, and put his hands behind his
back. Then he carefully repeated all the
verses he could remember. The old man
listened as eagerly as though he had never
heard them before.

“Why, Benjamin,” cried Tom, when he
had quite finished; ‘‘if you’re so fond of the
Bible, ve a whole book full of Bible stories,
which [ll bring you to read. Tl go and fetch
them now, if you like.”

The old man smiled, and shook his head
slowly.

“Thank you, Master Tom,” said he;
“thank you all the same; but it’s the blessed
promises of God and not the stories that I’m
caring about.”

Tom looked at him a ‘moment.
126 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

 

“Do you love God very much, Benjamin ? p”
he asked.

“Not near enough—not near enough,”
answered he, softly; “but when I’ve known
His ways, and watched His works, and felt
His hand leading me for seventy-nine years,
one’s heart must glow a little bit, Master
Tom.”

“But you've never seen Him—not once ?”
asked Tom. He was very curious to know
this. Old Benjamin shook his head.

“No,” he answered; “I haven’t seen Him
—nobody has; but I’m waiting for Him to
call me away. In your story-book, Master
Tom, maybe you've read about the boy
Samuel, who heard a voice-——”

“Yes !" broke in Tom; “he was lying in
bed, and the voice said, ‘Samuel, Samuel !’
And he couldn’t have been asleep, because
he answered at once, ‘Here Iam!’ And he
didn’t know who it was calling, and it was
God. Do you expect to hear a voice calling,
‘Benjamin, Benjamin?’ and when—how
soon ?”
Zom pays a Visit. 127

 

 

The old man shook his head.

“Can’t say, Master Tom. Sometimes, as
I lie awake in the early morning and see the
light grow, I think it will come then; and
sometimes I think it will be in the evening,
when the moon and stars are shining. But I
always take care to say good-bye to Matty
when I bid her good-night, in case I’m called
before morning.

“TI shan’t go into black for you,” cried
Tom; “I know that’s what people do when
their friends die. I’ve seen a great many
dressed in black; but I won’t for you, Ben-
jamin, because you're glad, and not sorry—
you want to go.”

Old Benjamin raised his eyes.

“Bless you, yes, Master Tom! [| do—lI
do.”

“But,” said Tom, “ Id like you to wait a
little, if you could. I hope your call won't
come just yet. I like coming to see you, and
talking to you like this.”

The old man put his hand on Tom’s

head.
I
198 Tom Seven Years Old.

a

‘The Lord knows best—remember that,
Master Tom.”

“That’s what mamma says,” said) Tom,
with a sigh; “exactly. She loves God as
much as you do. And she tries to please
Him instead of pleasing herself; and she
wants me to do the same, for she’s told me

 

so over and over again; and I dont want to,
Benjamin.”

Old Benjamin smiled.

“T was young once like you,” he said;
“and I used to think just as you do; but I’ve
changed my mind long since—long since!
And you'll come to see it too, Master Tom,
some day.” |
“Ts that what makes you happy ?” asked
Tom; “even though you're old, and can’t run,
or jump, or play, and have no money to buy
anything you want? It must be so stupid
being old, and always sitting still, reading the
same book, which you’ve read over and over
again ever so many times.”

Old Benjamin smiled again.

“T can’t explain, Master Tom,” -he said.
Tom pays a Viste. 129

Petree

 

“T can’t tell you how it is, or why itis. Id
never have guessed in old times that I would
come to this. I don’t think whether I’m
happy or not. I’m only waiting every minute
—listening for His blessed voice to call. He's
brought me on to here, and He'll lead me on
further—that I know.”

“Well,” said Tom, getting up; “{f must
run home now. Mamma said I wasn't to
stay late. But Vil come back very soon—
before you go. Id like to say good-bye, dear
Benjamin.”

The violets came only once a-year, soon
after winter, and did not stay till the
summer. Between whiles Tom had time to
forget how pretty they looked, and how
sweet they smelt. Their leaves were in the
shape of little green shields, and they liked
to hide their blue faces underneath them.
They were not tall like a rose-tree or a wall-
flower, or thick like a sweet-briar bush, and
yet their perfume rose up and filled a large
place in the air, so that long before Tom saw
the little green shields covering their heads,
130 Lom Seven Years Old.

oe ne ee et

he knew they were there, and called out,
“Violets, violets!” Tom was always glad
when they appeared. He admired the snow-
drops white face and the primrose’s yellow
one very much, but he loved the violets
more; and through the winters, when he
could not see them, he used to remember
which were the places under the hedges
where they were lying waiting in the ground,
that he might be ready to watch for them.

“Mamma!” he said, one morning, not long
after their return; “don’t you think old Ben-
jamin would like to see the violets once again
before he goes? Hecan’t go tothem; but I
could carry some to him, couldn’t I ?”

“Tt would be very nice,” said she.

“T'll get Archie to help me!” cried Tom:
“because he is more clever at finding them
than I am—they hide so well. I’ve got a
basket to hold them.”

“And [ll give you another for Archie,”
said his mamma.

She unlocked the store-room, and took one
down from the top shelf. It was a little
Zom pays a Visit. 131

nr eee eae Se

round brown basket, with a handle. Archie
hung it on hisarm. Tom ledthe way. The
hedge was all newly green, and so was the
grass, and the birds were singing loudly
among the new green leaves of the trees.
They. seemed to say, “Summer is coming,
roses are coming, strawberries are coming,
and the violets are already here!”

Tom jumped and danced. Archie did not
jump or dance, because it made his back ache,
but he felt just as happy inside. They
crossed the field, and went into the lane. It
was quite quiet, very few people walked along
it, This was the place.

“Violets, violets!” called Tom.

Archie stopped immediately, and pulled
his basket off his arm, and set to work to
look. All the banks were covered with the
little green shields. ‘Tom ran up and down
peeping underneath them. They did not
talk, because they were too busy. Archie
filled his basket, long before Tom’s was half-
full; then he helped Tom to fill his. They
did not put too many in, for fear of hurting
132 Tom Seven Years Old.

them. The violets looked quite happy lying
softly one on the top of another.

“Now,” said Tom, when they had picked
for a long time; “don’t you think we've got
enough ?”

“Well,” said Archie, looking at them; “I
think it might perhaps press them a little if
we put more in.”

“Then we'll take them to old Benjamin,”
said Tom.

Archie was not himself acquainted with old
Benjamin, but he knew that he was a friend
of Tom’s. They each carried their own
basket, walking carefully. They were not
heavy tocarry. Tom still led the way. When
they reached the house, he was just going to
knock at the door, and say, “It’s me, Ben-
jamin!” when Matty came out.

“J’m sorry, Master Tom,” she said; “ but
hell not be able to see you to-day. He’s
taken very bad.”

“Oh!” said Tom; “I wanted to give him
these violets myself. I thought he'd like to
see them once again. Is he going, Matty ?”
Lom pays a Veustt. 133

 

“He's taken very bad,” said she “I’m
staying at home to-day.”

Tom stood thinking.

“Leave the violets,” whispered Archie.

“Yes,’ said Tom, “of course. But I
wanted to say good-bye. Mightn’t I run in
just for a minute, Matty ?”

She shook her head.

“Not to-day, Master Tom.”

“But,” said Tom, with a sigh, “perhaps
he'll be gone to-morrow!” Then he handed
her the violets, saying, “ Please take them in,
and tell him I’ve picked them for him, because
I thought he might like to see them once
before he goes. And say good-bye from me,
Matty, please. You're quite sure I mightn’t
run in just for a minute ?”

“No, Master Tom, thank you,” answered
she.

“Tom,” said Archie, as they walked away ;
“did you see? she was holding her apron to
her eyes, because she was crying.”

“She shouldn’t cry,’ said Tom. ‘He
wanted to go. He has been waiting for a
134 Tom Seven Years Old.

long time—he told me so. And I told him I
wouldn’t go into black.”

They carried the rest of the violets home.
Archie kept half to give to his mamma; but
the other half was put into the white vase
with tulips painted on it, which Tom had
bought in London as a present for his
mamma; and they looked prettier than ever.

“Was old Benjamin pleased ?” she asked.

“IT didn’t see him,” said Tom; “ Matty
wouldn't let me. But I gave her the violets
to take to him, and he will just have time to
look at them before he goes. And she has
promised to say good-bye for me,”

 
 

CHAP. XIV.—TOM LEARNS A NEW LESSON.

Pee found it one of the hardest things in
» the world to have to wait. Whatever he
wanted he wanted immediately, and yet every
day people and things kept him waiting.
Very often at breakfast his tea was too hot,
and he had to wait till it was cool enough to
swallow; very often when he wanted to go
out his boots were not ready, and he had to
wait till they were cleaned before he could
go; very often the rain and snow would fall
just as he was starting, and he had to wait till
it was fine. But that was not nearly all.
When he came in it was just the same. Be-
tween dinner-time and tea-time, and tea-time
and bed-time, over and over again he had to
wait. It did not matter how much he wished
for a thing, or how long he had gone without
136 Lom Seven Years Old.

ers a AE kt et

 

tere, ne TE Ser Hee

it—patiently or impatiently, he was. still
obliged to wait till it came. And some things
were very long in coming—the postman, and
his birthday, and half-past twelve when his
lessons were done, and his Ulster from the
tailor’s, and the day to go to the Zoological
Gardens, and a hundred other things more
than he could name. At last he went to his

 

papa and complained. 3

“Come here,” said his papa, instead of
answering him. He walked into the garden,
and crossed the grass to the border. Tom
followed him. Then he drew out a little
packet of paper, inside which lay a heap of
tiny, hard, dry grains.

“Are they for the cocks and hens ?” asked
Tom.

“No,” said his papa; “they are living seeds.
I am going to sow them in the ground, and
in a short time you will see them shoot up out
of the earth into little sprouts of green.”

Tom took one in his hand, and looked at it
closely. It seemed quite hard and dead, and

there was no room for any juicy ‘stalks or
Lom learns a new Lesson. 137

leaves to be packed inside it. His papa was
stooping over the border.

“Stop!” cried Tom. “These are not the
ones. You have madea mistake. Nothing
could grow out of this; it’s as hard as a stone!”

But his papa did not stop. He lifted the
earth and scattered them in, then covered
them over.

“Wait,” he said, “and you shall see.”

“Oh, papa!” cried Tom. “After all I told
you this morning. Wait again! It’s so
horrid. I really can’t.”

“Why,” said his papa, “ you are not the
only one. Think of these little seeds. They
have to wait till the sun shines and the rain
falls to make them grow. It’s slow work
crowing. Everything takes time. Everyone
has to wait.” |

“Have grown-up people ?” asked Tom.

“Ves,” said his papa, “ everyone.”

Tom did not care so much to be grown-up
when he heard that.

“And the birds?” asked Tom. A bird
had just flown across the sky.
138 Lom Seven Years Old.

 

“Yes,” said his papa. “They have to wait
for the warm summer all through the cold
winter. And it’s while the poor robins are
waiting for new berries that they come and
beg us for food.”

Tom looked round. He now knew that
all along the border, though he could not see
them, there were plants lying quietly waiting
till the time came for them to peep out of the
ground,

“But,” said Tom, “they’re not in such a
hurry as I am—they couldn’t be, or they
wouldn't lie so still!”

“They mast wait,” answered his papa.

Tom sighed. He did not like to hear
that. He liked to think that, when he
could not get what he wanted himself, his
papa, or mamma, or somebody else would
be able to get it for him. That was why he
had complained to his papa about waiting.
He thought he would be able to prevent it.

“Dear me!” cried Tom. “It’s dreadful!
Poor buds! Poor plants! I’m glad I can
jump about, it makes the time seem shorter.”
Lom learns a new Lesson. 139

They left the seeds lying in the ground.
Tom’s papa told him positively they would
sprout up very soon; but Tom could scarcely
believe it.

“Every morning,” said his papa, “run out
and see for yourself.”

Tom did so. Morning after morning he
ran out and saw nothing but the brown earth.
One day it rained heavily, but he felt more
content to wait in-doors now that he knew the
seeds out-of-doors were getting the thing they
wanted. After a long time, when he was be-
ginning to be certain his papa had made a mis-
take, he suddenly caught sight of something
new in the border. It was a bright green
fringe of new shoots peeping out of the earth.

“Papa, papa!” he called, delighted.

His papa came out.

“Well,” said he, “can you read the letters ?”

Tom looked again. He saw the seeds were
sown in the shape of the letters—

T O M

Then he bent down and touched the dear

living leaves.
a.

 

 

140 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

“No wonder you took some time to make
out of that hard, dry grain,” he cried, “and
some time to push up through the ground.
It was well worth while your waiting, you
pretty things !”

And he was so pleased to see his own name
written so neatly in green, that he ran at once
to fetch Archie to show him the letters.

Every morning the stalks rose higher, and
new leaves came out. And, after waiting
again, dear little buds appeared, which at last
burst open, showing nice little green flowers,
which smelt as sweetly as violets, though the
perfume was quite different. Tom remem-
bered their faces well, and could tell the name.
It was mignonette. |

A week afterwards, Tom heard old Ben-
jamin was gone.

“Poor Matty, poor Matty!” said his
mamma ; “she’s so sad and unhappy.”

Tom said nothing, but waited till his lessons
were done. Then he seized his hat and ran
out. He meant to go and comfort’ Matty.
When he came to the cottage, the door was
Jom learns a new Lesson. 14%

Pe re ee

shut. He was just going to knock as usual,
and say, “It’s me, Benjamin!” when he re-
membered Benjamin was not there. So he
knocked, and said instead, “It’s me, Matty |”
and ina minute she opened the door. Her
eyes were quite red with crying, and when
she saw him she began to cry again.

“Don't,” said Tom—‘ don’t. I’ve come to
comfort you.”

He walked into the kitchen; the fire was
blazing, and the canary-bird singing, and the
black cat sleeping by the fender. Only the
arm-chair stood empty, and old Benjamin was
gone. Tom did not drag out the little
wooden chair, but went close to Matty, who
had stopped crying, and was wiping her eyes
with her apron.

“You shouldn't cry,” he said; “he wanted
to go. He’s been waiting a long time for his
call. He told me so himself, Matty.”

“He was very fond of you, Master Tom,”
said she.

“TI wanted him to stay longer, just like

)

you, said Tom. “TI didn’t want him to go
142 Tom Seven Years Old.

i tl RR RN I A RR A

 

so soon; but he said, ‘The Lord knows best’
—he did indeed—these were his own words.”
She wiped her eyes again, but she did not
seem comforted. Tom waited a minute. He
was thinking of what else he could say.
“And, Matty!” he cried, suddenly; “papa
says that we shall all be called some day—
every one of us—you too, Matty! Did you

 

not know it, or did you forget? Then you'll
see him—you're sure to see him. I don’t
know when it will be, but it’s coming; and
you could wait a little while, knowing it;
couldn’t you, Matty ?”

“ But it’s lonely-like now, Master Tom,”
she broke out.

Tom did not answer. He could not think
of anything else to say. She was crying
again. He stood looking at her.

“Mamma must come!” cried he at last, in
despair, moving to go. “I'll run and fetch
her; she makes everybody happy.”

“Don't,” said Matty, putting out her hand
to prevent him; “stop, Master Tom, please.
Thank you all the same; but I don’t want to
Lom learns a new Lesson. 143

 

be troubling her, or anybody. I'll get better
directly.”

Tom was very sorry for her. He had been
unhappy himself, and he knew how dreadful
it felt. Whenever he was in disgrace he was
horribly unhappy, and when his cockatoo
drooped and died in the winter, and when he
gave up the thing he liked best, and a few
other times which he remembered quite well.

“T'll get better directly,” repeated Matty ;
“it's only at first, before I’m used to it.”

“And,” said Tom, quickly, “you mustn’t
forget your call. You mayn’t have to wait
so very long, and you must keep listening.
Old Benjamin was always listening.”

Matty smiled for the first time.

“Oh, do smile!” cried Tom, delighted,
throwing his arms round her. “I came to
comfort you! I want to make you happy !”

“Thank you, Master Tom,” said she:
“thank you.”

“But [ didn’t know how hard it was!” said
Tom, surprised. “I thought it would be
quite quick and easy. You must let me go

K
144 Tom Seven Years Old.

ae

and fetch mamma—she knows how, and will
do it at once.”

“I’m better,” said Matty, smiling again.
“Tt’s only at times I get a bit low.”

Tom watched her for a minute. Then he
moved to go.

“Tl run home now,” he said, “‘ because I’ve
nothing more to say to comfort you. But [ll
come back again very soon to see if you're
happy. Good-bye.”

He ran home, and told his mamma all about |
his visit.

“J didn’t comfort her much,” said he at
last. “She was still crying. Nothing I said
seemed to make her happy. You must go,
mamma. I told her you would comfort her.

His mamma shook her head.

“I can only try,” she said; and Tom knew
what she meant. For he had learnt by this
time that there were some things neither she
nor his papa could do—that only God could
do—and he understood that this was one of
them. So before he went to sleep, that night,
he prayed—*“ Oh, God! comfort Matty !”
Ss SS RG S ESQ SS \' SS
Kaa SSS @ UT KIS AVES
TEs 2S WN S aK

     

CHAP, XV.—TOM GETS INTO DISGRACE,

VY) ESIDES the blackberries which grew

in the hedges, and the hips and haws,
which were so pretty to look at, but not good
to eat, there were some other berries that
hung like little bunches of red grapes; and
these Tom was forbidden to pick or taste.
He often looked at them, and longed to do
so; he was sure they had a nice new taste of
their own. One afternoon Archie and he
were out in the lane where the violets grew.
Tom saw a straggling stalk stretching across
the top of the hedge, from which hung these
juicy red berries. They looked even more
juicy and delicious than usual. Archie was
behind the stile—there was nobody else near.
Tom stretched out his hand and gathered
some, and put one in his mouth; but the next
146 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

moment he put it out in a great hurry, for it
did not taste inside nearly as nice as it looked
outside. Tom had still some in his hand
when Archie came up.

“What have you got ?” asked he. “Sloes!
Are there sloes here ?” |

Sloes were another kind of fruit that grew
in the hedge, and were as purple as plums,
but not nearly so nice to eat. Tom did not
answer, but he crushed his berries up in his
hand, and threw them into the ditch when
Archie’s back was turned.

“Why, Tom!” cried Archie, soon after,
when they were crossing the road to go
home; “what have you done to your jacket?
Look !” |

Tom looked. It was stained all round the
pocket with the juice of the red berries,

“What isit?” said Archie. “What a mess!”

Tom did not say what the stain was,
though he knew quite well. There was a
little dirty pool by the side of the road, where
tadpoles lived, and where animals liked to
stop and drink as they passed.
Lom gets into disgrace. 147

 

“T know,” said Tom; “stop a minute—
Pll wash it!”

“But what is it?” repeated Archie,
‘When did you do it ?”

‘How can I tell ?” answered Tom, crossly.
“Can’t you help me to get it clean, instead of
standing there asking stupid questions ?”

Archie very kindly knelt down on the grass
and pulled out his handkerchief.

“It's no good washing it with this water,”
he said, after dipping itin. “ Look how black
itis! It will only make it dirtier.”

“Never mind,” said Tom; “let’s try.”

He did not want to go into the house with
such a nasty mess on his jacket, in case his
mamma or somebody should see it, and find
out what it was. They both rubbed together
as hard as they could. Then Tom let it go,
and looked at it. The dirty water had left a
black mark round the pocket.

“It’s worse than ever,” said Archie. “We
had better not rub it any more.”

It was worse than ever; there was no
doubt of it. Tom saw he would have to go
148 Lom Seven Years Old.

home with it just as it was; but he hoped he
might slip upstairs without meeting anybody,
and then he could wash it with clean water,
and rub it with his sponge.

“ Let’s go in by the back gate,” said he.

He thought they would be less likely to
meet anybody if they went that way.

“But that’s a long walk round,” said
Archie, dolefully. “Why should we? Well
get in much sooner by the front.”

“Well, go then!” said Tom. He was
feeling crosser and crosser ever since he
had tasted that nasty berry. “I shouldn't
wonder,” he thought, “if I were poisoned.
Mamma said they were poisonous, now I
remember, and I didn’t believe her. Things
shouldn't look so pretty outside and be so
horrid inside.”

Archie followed Tom in at the back gate,
even though he was tired. He was good-
natured enough not to say anything more,
because he saw Tom was cross. They
reached the garden steps without. meeting
anybody. ‘om thought he was going to be
Lom gets into disgrace. 149

lucky, when just at that minute the garden
door opened, and his mamma came out. She
was smiling. “Perhaps she won't see,”
thought Tom.

“Tm glad you've come back,” said she. “I
wanted you.”

Tom was slipping up the steps, and meant
to pass her quickly, with the dirty side of his
jacket near the wall, but her eyes fell on it
directly. |

“Why,” she said, “what’s that? What
have you been putting in your pocket? It’s
quite wet!” |

Tom was obliged to stop, though he was
very sorry. ‘He looked down at it.

“We've been trying to wash it clean,” said
Archie; “but the water was so dirty that it
made it worse.”

Tom’s mamma took up his hand; it was
stained as well as the jacket. Then she
looked at his face. Tom carefully kept his
eyelids down; he did not want her to see
inside him.

“Tom,” said she, very gravely; “you have
150 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

been picking the red berries that I told you
not to pick. And you have not only been
picking them, but eating them. Is it so?”

Tom raised his eyes, forgetting.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, in a great hurry;
“it was too nasty; I couldn’t swallow it.”

“Ts that true ?” asked she.

“Yes, mamma!” cried Tom; “really true.”

“Archie,” said she, “go into the drawing-
room. Tom can have no one to take tea
with him to-day. ‘Tom, come upstairs with

3

me. |
She held his hand tightly. “Tom did not
like it, and tried to get it loose. He knew
he was going to be punished. She took him
upstairs to an empty room, where there was
only the bare walls, bare floor, and bare
ceiling.

“Now, Tom,” she said, “ you stay here till
I send for you. What have you done wrong,
that I am punishing you for? ‘Tell me.”

Tom knew quite well, but did not choose
to tell her. He was very angry with her for
punishing him at all, and he was very angry
Zom gets into disgrace. 151

 

with Archie for having been present when he
was punished.

“Tom,” said she, “you know quite well.
Because you were disobedient. When I come
back I hope to find you sorry.”

She turned away. Tom felt angrier than
ever.

“Tm not a bit sorry now!” he called after
her as she shut the door. She did not return
for a long time, and Tom was determined
never to feel sorry, if he could help it.
He had nothing to play with, so he walked
up and down the bare floor, singing as loud
as he could. He hoped his mamma and
Archie would hear him in the drawing-room,
and know he was not sorry. After a little
while he began to be tired of singing, and
there was nothing else to do. If he had had
a pencil in his pocket he would have written,
“I’m not a bit sorry!” on the bare white
walls, but he had no pencil, so he went to the
window and looked out. It was so small and
high up, that there was nothing to see but a
piece of the sky and the tops of the trees in
152 Tom Seven Years Old.

ey
Se RT

the garden. No bird or cloud passed to
amuse him. It grew darker. His mamma
did not come. He was not yet sorry, but a
little hungry and very tired.

“ Perhaps,” he thought, “she has forgotten

|»

me

The door was locked. He knew he could
not get out. He began to wish he had never
picked the nasty berries. Just then he heard
a step outside, and he determined over again
not to be sorry. [he door was unfastened.
His mamma came in.

“Dear Tom,” she said, “aren’t you sorry
now ?”

Her voice was very sweet. Tom still stood
by the window, trying hard not to be.

“Don’t you know it was very wrong to
pick the berries ?”

“Ves,” said Tom.

“ And aren't you sorry ?” asked she. “I’m
sure you are!”

Her voice was so soft and sweet, it almost
persuaded him to be. He struggled a minute
longer, and then he had to give it up. There
Lom gets into disgrace. 153

—_—

 

was no use hiding it from himself and from
her—he was sorry. His mamma took his
hands and folded them.

“Have you asked for forgiveness, Tom 2”
she whispered.

“IT didn’t want it till now!” sobbed Tom.

“Then ask it now,” said she.

They stood quite quiet and quite still, while
he asked. Tom did not kneel. He knew
God would hear him any way, whether he
stood or knelt.

“T’ve done it,” he said at last. Then
Tom’s mamma put her arm round him, as
though he had never been cross to her,
and he thought it very good of her. They
walked down stairs to the warm, bright
drawing-room. His tea was laid on a little
table by the fire. He had not been forgotten,
even though he was in disgrace. Tom felt
it very delightful being forgiven. He threw
his arms round his mamma’s neck, and told
her so.

“But you mustn’t do it again,” whispered
she in return—“ never.”
154 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

And he determined he never would, when
he saw how unhappy it had made her.

Soon afterwards his papa’s step was heard
on the stair.

“Must I tell him?” Tom asked his
mamma. “Will it make him as sorry as it
did you ?”

“Ves,” answered she; “I’m afraid it will.
But you have something else to tell him,
haven't you—something that will make him
glad ?”

“T know!” cried Tom, jumping up to run
and meet him. ‘I was naughty; but I’ve
been forgiven—and it’s so nice being for-
given, mamma !”

 
 

CHAP, XVI.—TOM GOES TO SEE ARCHIE’S

GRANDPAPA.

, CHIE had a grandpapa and a grand-

mamma, who lived in a red house, and
had two beautiful peacocks and one peahen.
They also had rows and rows of strawberry-
beds in their garden, and bowls and bowls of
cream in their dairy. One day the old gentle-
man and lady asked Archie and Tom to
come to see them and their peacocks, and to

 

eat their strawberries and cream.

Tom wore his best hat and jacket. He
ran over early to Archie’s house, and found
him standing waiting on the steps, with his
best hat and jacket on. They were going to
drive in the dogcart. It was great fun. At
last they started. |

“Good-bye! good-bye!” called Archie to
156 Tom Seven Years Old.

his mamma and Rover the dog, who stood at
the door watching them.

They had a long drive, but there was a
creat deal to see on the road. At one place
a whole flock of sheep passed them slowly ;
at another, two hens ran right across in front
of them in a dreadful fright. On each side
were dear little white cottages like old Ben-
jamin’s, with neat little pigsties, and pigs
grunting happily inside them. Then they ©
saw a big pond with three ducks swimming
about in it, and a cow standing busily drink-
ing. Their own horse was thirsty, and the
coachman allowed him to stop and take as
much water as he wanted. The poor flowers
in the hedgerows were all covered with white
dust, but those far back in the gardens were
quite clean, and beautiful, and sweet.

At last they saw the red house peeping
through the green leaves of the trees. The
peacocks were not walking anywhere near the
avenue, neither was the peahen, for both Tom
and Archie looked to see. The old gentle-
- man met them at the door.
Archie's Grandpapa. 157

 

ee een

“Come along, come along!” said he.
“The strawberries are ready, and so is the
cream! How do you do, my dears ?”

“But where are the peacocks ?” asked
Tom, staring all round.

 

“Never mind, never mind,” said the old
gentleman; “strawberries and cream first,
and peacocks afterwards.”

They walked along the garden path to an
arbour covered with ivy leaves, that looked
like a great nest built for some big bird.
Inside were seats and a table, on which were
placed piles of juicy red strawberries and lots
of cream; and a nice old lady with a white
shawl on came out and kissed them. This
was Archie's grandmamma.

“Sit down, my dears,” she said.

“Archie,” whispered Tom, after looking at
her a minute; “I like your grandpapa and
grandmamma very much indeed; but I like
your grandpapa the best.”

“What does he say—what does he say ?”
said the old gentleman. “ Does he want any-
thing? Speak out, my dear—don’t be afraid !”
158 Tom Seven Years Old.

Tom repeated aloud what he had whis-
pered.

“T don’t know which I like the best,” said
Archie. | |

“Don’t think now,” said the old gentle-
man; “wait till afterwards. Think of straw-
berries now—only strawberries. Give them

3)

some more cream, grandmamma.”

The old lady filled their plates again. Out-
side, the sun was shining hotly on the goose-
berry bushes and apple-trees, but inside the
ivy-nest it was shady and cool. After eating
as many strawberries as they could, they
began to talk and look about them.

“Now for the peacocks,” said the old
gentleman, who seemed to guess the very
thing they wanted. “Come along, come
along !”

“T'll stay here till you come back,” said the
old lady, nodding kindly to Archie and ‘Tom
“Run away, my dears.”

Airchie walked beside his grandpapa, and
_ Tom ran on before. The currant-bushes were
covered with nets, and a poor bird had crept
Archie's Grandpapa. 159

_ in underneath them, and was fluttering as hard
as he could.

“Oh, let him out!” cried Tom. “Look, he
wants to get out! Nice old gentleman, do
let him out !”

‘Quietly, quietly,” said Archie’s grand-
papa. “See, this way.”

Then he bent down and showed Tom a big
hole in the net. |

“This way, this way!” called Tom to the
bird. “Oh, stupid bird! can’t you under-
stand ?”

“Flush!” said Archie; “he’s coming—
hush !”

They waited and watched quietly. After
fluttering in the wrong direction for a minute
or two, the bird turned at last, and flew
through the hole.

“He’s free! he’s free!” shouted Tom,
clapping his hands. ‘“ Look! he’s gone over
the wall!”

“Pray, be quiet,” said the old gentleman ;
“don’t speak soloud. My gardener will hear,
and come to see what is the matter. He

L
160 Tom Seven Vears Old.

-mustn’t know I’ve let the bird out, or he’d be
very angry.” |

“Would he?” said Tom and Archie to-
gether. “Why ?” |

“Because,” answered he, “that was a
naughty bird that went to steal the fruit, and
the net imprisoned him because he was a
thief.”

“ And what would your gardener do to you,
aif he knew you let him out ?” asked Tom.

“Do?” repeated the old gentleman. “Why,
punish me, of course. He wouldn’t allow me
any fruit. He'd give it all to the birds to eat
instead. It’s very sad; but that’s what he
would do.”

“Oh dear, how dreadful!” cried Archie and
Tom together.
“Yes,” said the old gentleman ; “it is very

_- dreadful. Look, there he is, but his back is

turned; so it’s all right. Now for the pea-
cocks,” oo

He opened a little door into another garden.

“There they are! there they are!” cried

Archie; and there they really were—two
   
  

   

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‘OTHERE THEY ARE!” CRIED ARCHIE.
Archie's Grandpafa. 161

 

beautiful peacocks, with their tails spread. out,
strutting about on the grass. The poor ugly
peahen was walking by herself a little way off.

“Why, cried Tom, “they’re even more
finely dressed than the parrots at the Zoo-
logical Gardens! And how proud they
seem |” |

“Well,” said the old gentleman; “and
wouldn’t you be proud if you had such a tail ?
Look at the splendid colours.”

“ But,’ said Archie, “it’s a shame that the
peahen should be so shabby, while her hus-
band is so grand.”

“ Never mind, never mind,” said his grand-
papa. ‘She doesn’t care, assure you. Her
feathers make just as warm a covering. She
has the same comfort without the show.”

“And I like you just as well, poor brown
peahen,” called Tom, after they had said
good-bye, and were turning away. “It isn’t
your fault that you haven't so fine a tail as
the peacock ; and anyway, you don't look half
so proud.” |

They went back to the arbour. The old
162 Zom seven Vears Old.

er ee a ace ntrt en,

lady was stil sitting there, and she put down
her knitting at once to listen to all they had
to tell her—about the bird imprisoned in the
net, and the gardener, and the proud pea-
cocks and shabby peahen. ‘Then it was time
for Archie and Tom to go. They were both
very sorry, and said they would like to stay
always, instead of going home in the dogcart.

“Good-bye, grandpapa; good-bye, grand-
mamma!” cried Archie.

“Good-bye, good-bye!” said Tom. “ Bend

down, please; I want to whisper something.

 

You're the very nicest old gentleman I’ve
ever seen, and she's the very nicest old lady !”

 
 

CHAP. XVII.—TOM MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE.

fi. NE day Tom was walking along the

road, when he saw a little girl sitting on
a stone, crying bitterly. She had no hat on,
and her hair did not look as though it
had ever been brushed, and her feet were
bare. |

“Why do you cry ?” said Tom, running to
her. “Boys never cry. What are you cry-
ing for?”

The little girl looked up, but did not speak.

“Have you hurt yourself?” asked Tom.
“Where are your shoes and_ stockings?
Hadn’t you better put them on and go
home ?” |

“I’m hungry!” sobbed the little girl, “I
|”?

want something to eat
“Vou shouldn’t cry,” said Tom. “That's
164 Tom Seven Years Old.

babyish. Why don’t you go home and get
your dinner ?”

“There ain’t none,” said she “ Father’s
ill, and mother’s got no money, and I’m so
hungry !”

She began to cry again.

“No dinner ?” said Tom, puzzled. “ Why,
everybody has his dinner. It’s ready every
day at one o’clock.”

“Father's ill,” repeated she; “he can't
work. Mother's no money to buy anything!”

“Come home with me,” said Tom, “and
I'll give you some of my dinner. It’s sure to
be,ready. The cook is cooking it now in the
kitchen.”

The little girl got up and ran along beside
Tom. She did not seem to mind the dust
on her bare feet, or the hot sunshine on her
bare head. Tom looked at his nice strong
boots.

“Tlave you no money to buy shoes or
stockings, or a hat ?” he asked, surprised.

“T don’t care about them,” she answered ,
“T want my dinner.”
Zom makes an Acquaintance. 165

Tom thought of all the things he had be-
sides a dinner every day—boots, and shoes,
_and stockings, and hats. He felt very sorry
for the poor little girl, When they reached
the house, she stood in the passage, while he
ran upstairs to find his mamma.

“What is there for dinner to-day?” he
asked. “I’ve brought a little girl in to have
some of mine. She hasn’t any dinner at
home, and she’s so hungry. Do come and
see her !”

His mamma went down at once. The
little girl told her what she had told Tom,
that her father was ill, and her mother had
no money.

“ She hasn’t even shoes or stockings, or a
hat. Look, mamma!” said Tom.

The little girl was taken to the kitchen,
and given a plate of meat and pudding, while
Tom ate his dinner upstairs.

“J should like her to have some money to
buy some shoes and stockings, and a hat, and
a dinner for to-morrow,” said he. “Will you

° )
give me some, please ?”
166 Tom Seven Years Old.

“That would be my present, not yours,”
answered his mamma. “ You must give it
yourself.”

“But Pve spent my last penny on that
whistle,” said Tom; “I wish I hadn’t. What
shall I do ?”

“What do poor people do when they want
money ?” said she.

“T know,” said Tom, after thinking a
minute; “they work, and then they get paid
for their work. Could I work and get paid ?”

“Certainly,” answered she. “When papa
comes in, ask him to give you some work to

do.”
| “T will,” said Tom. ‘“Whata good plan!
And the little girl can tell her father that I
mean to work for him, as he can’t for himself,
and take them the money. And they can
buy what they like with it—shoes, and stock-
ings, and hats, and dinners !”

He was in a great hurry for his papa to
come home, that he might begin at once. He
knew Richard, and the gardener, and the
coachman, and a great many other people
Lom makes an Acquaintance. 167

 

worked hard, and were paid for it. As soon
as he heard the front door open, he ran down
stairs and told his papa all about it, while he
was taking off his hat and hanging up his
coat.

“And what can I do?” said Tom, eagerly.

“There are two ways in which you can
earn some money, answered his papa. “ If
you choose to weed the garden, instead of
the gardener, I will pay you for the work by
the hour. Or if you choose to go without
butter for your tea, I will give you the money
that I generally pay for the quantity you eat.”

Tom stood with his back to the wall think-
ing.

“And then,” said he, “it would be my very
own money ?”

“Your very own,” answered his papa, “that
you will have earned for yourself.”

“T should like,” said Tom, “to do what
would get me the most money—to weed the
garden, and go without the butter also.
May I?”

“Certainly,” answered his papa; “if you
168 Tom Seven Years Old.

choose. Try for a week, and at the end of
that time come to me, and I will pay you.”

“And then,” cried Tom, “I shall run
straight to the poor little girl’s home, and give
the money to her sick father, and say, ‘ Buy
shoes, and stockings, and hats, and dinners
—it’s yours—I’ve earned it for you!’ How
delightful that will be!”

His mamma thought the plan a first-rate
one. That same evening he began to earn
money by going without butter for his tea,
and eating his bread dry. In spite of that, it
tasted very good, for all the time he kept
thinking of the end of the week, when he
should have earned his money, and could
carry it to the poor little girl and her sick
_ father. |

The next morning, as soon as his lessons
were done, Tom ran to the garden to begin
his work, The gardener was also busy at
his, and the sun was shining, and the bees
were humming. At first it was very nice
pulling out the naughty little weeds, and pil-
ing them in a heap on the gravel-walk to be
Lom makes an Acquaintance. 169

swept away, and watching the border become —
gradually smooth and tidy. But long before
the first hour was over Tom grew tired of
stooping, and felt the sun shine dreadfully hot
on his back, and longed to stop and do some-
thing else. |

“Gardener!” he called; “aren’t you tired
of working? When are you going to rest ?”

“When my work is done, Master Tom,”
answered he.

“Dear me!” said Tom; “not till then?
I’m tired, and mean to stop now for a little.”

The gardener was busy rolling the grass.
Tom lay down on his back, and pulled his
hat over his eyes.

“Vou aren't half a worker, Master Tom,”
said the gardener, watching him, “if you
give in the first minute your back aches, and
the sun burns you. I advise you to get up
and begin again.”

“JT didn’t know work was so tiresome,”
said Tom, “or that it was so hard to earn
money. What do you and other workers do,

gardener >”
170 Tom Seven Years Otd.

en

“Go on,” answered he, “hard or easy,
sunshine or rain, till it’s done. You're only
accustomed to play—that’s what it is, Master
Tom.”

“Oh no, ’m not!” said Tom, jumping up,
and beginning to weed again. He did not
like the gardener saying that. He worked
busily, and tried to forget the heat, and to
think of nothing but pulling out the weeds.
By the time he had to go in, there was quite
a large pile to sweep away.

“Look, gardener,” said Tom. The gar-
dener turned round and nodded.

“That's more like work,’ answered he.
Tom felt proud. As he ran into the house,
past the study-door, he heard his papa calling
him.

“How long have you been working ?” he
asked, when Tom went in. “I must know
before I can pay you your wages at the end
of the week. How long is it ?”

Tom looked at the clock; it was just
five. |

“Two hours, papa,” said he: “but I
Lom makes an Acquaintance. 171

FES eater

stopped in the middle to lie on my back and
rest.”

 

“Two hours all but ten minutes,” said his
papa, marking it down.

“TI wish it was the end of the week now,”
said Tom, with a sigh; “it’s so hard working,
and so horrid to have no butter on your bread
for tea afterwards |”

“Tired already, Tom?” said his papa,
smiling; “the very first day! Would you
like to give up earning money for the poor
little girl ?”

“No,” said Tom; “I don’t want to stop;
but I only wish it was the end of the week,
and I had the money, and hadn’t to weed any
more.” |

“You aren’t half a worker,” said his papa,
shaking his head. “Ah, Tom! you must
learn how to work before you are a man.”

“ But stooping makes me ache,” said Tom, ~
“and the sun is so hot, and I wanted to go
and play. Is all work as hard, papa ?”

“All work is hard,” answered his papa;
‘af it wasn’t, it would not be work at all, but
172 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

a et I
a A ee ae ee

only play. And everybody gets tired of
working sometimes. But they do not mind;
they only care for one thing—to get it done,
and done well.”

“T pulled the weeds out well,” said Tom.
“They're all swept away now, and can’t grow
again. That’s a comfort.”

The next day he set to work once more.
He determined to go on without stopping till
the two hours were over, and not to mind the
hot sun or his back aching, but to be a real
worker, And he did so, When he got up
at length and stretched himself, there was a
splendid heap of weeds to carry away. Then
he went into the house and rested, as his
work was done. The five other days passed
very slowly. Tom thought they would never
come to an end. On the very last afternoon
he called to his papa and mamma to come
and see the border ; and they both cried out—

“How tidy! How nice! Why, Tom,
you ve done it beautifully !” |

Then he went into the study to get his
wages.
Lom makes an Acquaintance. 173

ae.

 

 

“Have you made out your account?”
asked his papa.

“My account ?” said Tom, puzzled.

“Yes,” said he; “the account of what I
owe you for your work. Never mind; I’ve
made it cut for you this time. Next time
you must do it for yourself.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the
writing-drawer. On it was written—

 

Adonday.—One hour and fifty minutes weeding, . 8d,
Luesday.—Two hours weeding, . ° - gd.
Wednesday.— Do. . . . od.
Lhursday.— Do. ° > «+ Od,
Lriday.— Do. ° ° - od.
Saturday.— Do. ° ° - od.
Monday.— Do. ° ° . od.
tlb. Butter, | ° ° ° ° 1s. 6d.

6s. 8d.

And he put six shillings and one sixpence
and two pennies into Tom’s hand.

“My wages!” cried Tom, delighted. “My
very own money that I’ve worked for—
hurrah !”

How glad he was now that he had not
given up working at the first, because he felt
174 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

tired and hot. He ran to the gardener to
show it to him.

“Well done, Master Tom!” said he, when
he saw the money.

“T’m going to take it at once, this very
minute, to the poor little girl’s home,” said
Tom, “so that she can buy a dinner for to-
morrow.”

His mamma was standing ready on the
steps with her bonnet and shawl on. Tom
carried the six shillings and eightpence tightly
in his hand. ‘They started.

“IT mean to run,” said Tom, “because
walking is so slow.”

 
 

 

CHAP. XVITI.—TOM GIVES HIS EARNINGS.

K\, T last they reached the place. It was a
Ad» small cottage, with two windows, and
one chimney, and one door. They knocked
gently. The little girl opened the door, and
smiled when she saw Tom. Her feet were
still bare, and her hair still looked as though
it had never been brushed, and her frock was
very old indeed.

“May we come in?” said Tom’s mamma.
‘How is your father ?”

“ Father's better,” answered she; “ mother’s

   
  

out.” |

They walked into the room. Tom still
held the six shillings and eightpence tightly in
his hand. The sick man sat in the arm-chair,
looking pale and ill. There was a cupboard

in the corner, and the door was open. In it
M .
176 Lom Seven Years Old.

were a few cups and plates, and half-a-loaf of
bread. If they had had any dinner that day,
Tom thought, they must have eaten up every
scrap, for there was no cold beef or cold
mutton, or any meat at all to be seen; nothing
but the cups and plates, and half-a-loaf of dry
bread. Tom’s mamma began to talk to the
sick man, and Tom talked to the poor little
girl He was thinking of his six shillings and
eightpence in his hand all the time, but did
not know how to speak of it.

“Do you work?” asked Tom. He was
curious to know.

“ Mother's out,’ answered she; “I mind
father.”

“Ts that work or play ?” said he.
“JT sees to father,” repeated she, “and
lights the fire, and cleans up, and gets
mother’s supper ready.”

“Don’t you do any lessons ?” asked Tom,
surprised. The little girl shook her head.

“ Dear me, how strange!” said he. “I do
lessons every day for two hours, and then I
play afterwards. Do you never play ?”
Lom gtves his Earnings. 177

—-—

“I mind father,” said she again. ‘“ Mother
goes out to work, and I stays at home, and
cleans up, and sees to things.”

“Wouldn’t you like to play sometimes?”
asked Tom. “ Think of building real castles
with bricks, or setting out all the Noah’s ark
beasts and birds in a row—wouldn’t you like
that ?”

The little girl stared at him.

“Father's ill,” answered she. ‘ He’s been
laid up these two months. I have to mind
him while mother goes out to work.”

She did not seem even to know what play
was. Tom felt more and more sorry for her.

“Have you had any dinner to-day ?” asked
he. She shook her head.

“Ts it too late to take your dinner now ?”
said he; “this is my tea-time. My tea will
be ready when I go home. But then I had
my dinner at one o'clock. Could you eat a
dinner now?”

She nodded in a great hurry. Tom
stretched out his hand and gave her the six
shillings and eightpence.
178 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

“There is money to buy a dinner. I
brought it. I meant it to be for to-morrow’s
dinner; but if you haven't had any to-day,
perhaps you would rather get it to-night
instead ? Would you ?”

The little girl did not answer, but ran
straight to her father.

‘“ Look, look, father!” she cried, delighted,
showing him the money. He seemed as much
pleased, for he turned his pale face to Tom,
and said—

“Thank you, young gentleman; thank you
kindly. It will come in very useful, I can
tell you. ‘Times are hard just now.”

Tom turned quite red with pleasure.

“T worked for it,” hesaid. “It is my very
own money. She can get a dinner for to-
night, if she likes; I meant it for to-morrow,
but I don’t care which, only I wanted her to
have a dinner. I have one every day at one
o'clock.”

“Bless you, sir,” said the poor man, “ It
will get us more than one dinner—that it

199

+

will
Lom gives his Earnings. 179

 

“All the better,’ said Tom; “I should
like you to have one every day, like me. And
I do wish she had a hat, and shoes, and stock-
ings—it must be so horrid to walk along the |
hard roads without any!” © |

“I've brought a present also,” said Tom’s
mamma, opening a basket she had carried in
her hand. “Tom, take the things out.”

Fe dipped his hand in, and drew out a pair
of shoes, and two pair of stockings, and a hat.
All for the poor little girl! Then he drew out
a pot of jelly for the poor sick man. It was
a delicious surprise.

“sAin’t they lovely?” cried the little girl,
her face beaming. “What w7d/ mother say
when she comes back ?”

Ihe poor sick man took the pot of jelly.
His face was beaming also.

“Thank you, ma'am; thank you,” said
he. |

“T will come again soon,” said Tom’s
mamma, ‘and see hew you are.”

“And I will come too,” said Tom to the
little girl “I hope you will put on your
180 Tom Seven Years Old.

shoes and stockings at once, and go and fetch
something for your dinner.”

They said good-bye, and went away.

“Poor little girl!” cried Tom, as soon as
they were outside; “she works and never
plays—only fancy, mamma! And often has
no dinner at all! Why, I found it hard
enough to do without butter fora week! But
they're happy to-night, aren’t they ?”

“Yes,” answered she; “we must go and
see them again soon.”

When ‘Tom reached home, he found his
own tea laid ready in the dining-room. He
could not. help thinking of the cupboard in
the poor little girl’s house, with only half-a-
loaf of bread in it. Here was not only bread,
but butter, and jam, and milk, and sugar, and
tea, and as much as he liked to take of them!
So many things, and she had so few! So
when he had shut his eyes, and given thanks
before beginning, he added ina whisper to
God—

“And please let everybody have as good a
tea as me!”
 

CHAP. XIX.—TOM HELPS A POOR BIRD IN
DISTRESS. |

sv

NS far from the field where old Ben-
AN jamin used to live there was a nice
round pond. There were no ducks swim-
ming about in it, because it was too small;
but during the hot summer-time tall yellow
irises grew there in large companies, and blue
dragon-flies flew over them. There were also
a number of green weeds floating about, with
long stalks stretching far down underneath,
and their heads pushed out above the water.
One day Tom and Archie were playing near,
when Archie suddenly called Tom.

“Look!” he said; “there’s something on
the stalk of that weed. What is it ?”

They both looked. It was the dearest
little brown bird, standing quite still, and
making no noise.
182 Lom Seven Years Old.

“He wants help,” said Tom, directly; “I
can see by his face. And he’s afraid of mov-
ing nearer the edge of the stalk, in case he
tumbles into the water.”

_ They looked round. Just above him a tree
was growing, close to the pond.

“The nest must be there,” said Archie;
“and he’s fallen out. Poor little bird, he’s
too young to fly, so he’s just standing waiting
till somebody comes to help him.”

“And here we are!” called Tom to the
bird; “and we will—we will! Don’t move,
little bird—stand quite still. I’ll.climb the
tree, and find your home, and take you back
to it. Don’t be afraid !”

“T wonder his mother doesn’t come,” said
Archie.

“Perhaps,” answered Tom, “she had gone
out to get their dinner—this is the hour they
generally go, t think—and didn’t know any-
thing about it.”

Tom climbed the tree, while Archie
_ watched that the little bird did not fall into.
_ the water. He seemed quite happy standing
Lom helps a poor Bird. 183

waiting, and not a bit afraid. Tom looked
everywhere among the lower branches, but
could not find the nest, so he climbed higher.
The leaves were very thick—there was no
room for him—and the round, narrow
branches were difficult to stand upon. At
last Archie heard him calling. He went close
to the tree.

“T’ve found his home!” whispered Tom.
“And he has got two brothers just like him-
self. I haven’t met the father or mother yet.
If I come half-way down, could you hand me
the little bird without hurting him ?”

“T’ll try,’ said Archie. He really was |
afraid to touch it, in case it might break, it
seemed so delicately made.

Archie lifted it gently from off the stalk.
It did not flutter or struggle—it was too
young to be afraid.

Tom stood ready to receive it.

“Dear little baby-bird,” he said, “you
were quite right to wait. I'll take you up-
stairs to your home this very minute.”

He climbed slowly back again. Archie
184 Tom Seven Years Old.

was watching anxiously at the foot of the
tree.

“ All safe!” cried Tom; “don’t be fright-
ened. Won't the mother be surprised when
she comes back, and he tells her where he’s
been !”

“ Are his brothers glad to see him ?” asked
Archie.

“T think they're more hungry than glad,”
said Tom. “‘They’re wanting their dinner.
I wish their mother would come back and
bring it them.”

“T hear a bird flying near,” said Archie.
“Perhaps it’s her, You’d better come down,
you might frighten her.”

“That would be very stupid indeed,” said
Tom, “when we've just saved her son from
being drowned! But I’ll come down, in case.”

No sooner had he reached the ground than
a bird flew straight over their heads into the
tree.

“It’s her, it’s her!” cried. Archie. “I’m
sure she went to the nest! And she’s got
their dinner. I’m so glad.”
Lom helps a poor Bird. 185

—

They waited, watching to see if there was
anything else they could do for them, but
there seemed nothing.

“Now,” said Tom, ‘‘we must go and see
if there are any more creatures in need of
help. Perhaps another little bird may have
fallen out while we've put this one in.”

They went back to the pond, but all seemed
going on rightly. The sun was shining, and
the yellow irises growing, and the blue
dragon-flies flying about. Tom and Archie
settled to walk round the country to find any
other birds or animals in distress, and help
them.

“My mamma is always telling me we ought
to help each other,” said Tom. “Is yours ?”

“Yes” answered Archie; “always.”

They stayed out till tea-time looking, but
found no one in need of help. At last, when
they were close to the garden gate, a dog
came up to them.

“ Don’t you think he looks lean and hungry,
and as though he had lost his way?” said

Tom. Archie was not sure.
186 Zom Seven Years Old.

“We must find out,” said Tom. “He had
better go in with us, and have some dinner at
once. If he’s not hungry, you know, hell
refuse it. Come along, strange dog !”

The strange dog followed gladly. Tom

ran and asked the cook for some dinner for
him. She let him have a nice plate of scraps
and two bones, on condition that he gave it
him outside the gate. ‘“ Because,” she said,
“your papa wouldn't like a lot of strange
dogs always running about the place, Master
Tom.”
“Oh!” answered Tom; “but that’s just
what I mean todo. Archie and I are going
to walk all over the country, and find all the
poor hungry dogs and cats and creatures in
distress, and bring them home with us.”

The strange dog looked very happy indeed,
and jumped for joy when he saw the plate of
scraps. He did not seem to mind being made
to eat outside the gate at all. Tom and
Archie were quite pleased with what they:
had done that day, and talked over what they
meant to do the next. But the only creature
Lom helps a poor Bird. 187

ee,

 

they could find in distress was a spider, whose
web Jane the housemaid had quite spoilt with
the handle of her broom. They would have
helped the spider to mend it, if they could
have worked finely enough, but they could
not, for it was beautifully made. |

‘“ Besides,” said Tom, “she makes her web
to catch flies, and then she eats them! [|
shouldn't like to help her in that!”

 
 

CHAP, XX.—TOM MAKES FRIENDS WITH THE
BEES.

KYSHE next time Tom went to see Archie's
A srandpapa and grandmamma, the old
gentleman took them into the garden again.

“ But,” he said, “ I’ve got something else to
show you this time. Archie, you walk on one
side, and Tom, you walk on the other, while
I tell you about what you are going to see.”

Archie walked on the right side, and Tom
on the left. No bird was imprisoned for
stealing under the nets this time, nor was the
gardener working anywhere near.

“Well,” said the old gentleman, “I made
a bargain with my bees. ‘Bees,’ I said, ‘I'll
give you a house to live in, if you'll give me
honey to eat; for I can build houses, but I
can't make honey.’ So I built them the walls
Tom and the Bees. 189

and roofs of their houses, and they fitted up
the rooms for themselves.”

“Fitted up rooms ?” repeated Archie.

“Yes,” said his grandpapa; “ wax-rooms
and store-closets to keep their honey in. I
would have offered to build them, if I had
known how, but I don’t know how to make
wax, any more than I know how to make
honey.”

“But,” cried Tom, “it wasn’t fair, was it,
to take all their honey out of their wax store-
closets, and only give them the walls and
roofs of their houses instead ?”

“Tust what I thought—just what I thought,”
answered he. “I lay awake three nights
thinking about it. For it was even worse—
I’m really ashamed to own it—lI used often
to take their wax store-rrooms away, besides
their honey! ‘My dear grandmamma, I said,
‘T’ve cheated the bees! This will never do.
I take the best of all that’s inside their houses,
and only give them bare walls and roofs in
return! This will never do. I might be
taken up for cheating !’”
190 Lom Seven Years Old.

“And what did grandmamma say ?” asked
Archie and Tom together.

“Qh!” said the old gentleman, ‘she saw
it at once, as everybody must. So we thought
it over quietly, and at last I hit upon a plan.
And the very next morning I carried it out.”

‘““And what was it?” asked Archie.

“T went to them,” said his grandpapa, “the
very next morning, and I said, ‘ Bees, I’ve
treated you dreadfully shabbily, but I won't
do so any longer. Though I can’t make your
rooms or honey, I can at least supply you with
the materials to make them for yourselves.
Besides the walls and roofs of your houses, I
give you my whole garden! Every flower
in it is yours—choose your materials out of
them. Come as often as you like, and stay
as long as you like, and do just exactly as
you like! Nobody can prevent you. Every
corner of it is yours !’”

“Ah!” cried Tom; “that was fair ! And
do they understand, do you think ?”

“Perfectly, perfectly,” answered the old
gentleman. “Whenever I walk out, I am
Lom and the Bees. 19!

——-—-~..

 

sure to meet some. If you look round, no
doubt you will see a great many scattered
over the garden. They know they’re wel-
come, but still I always take care to remind
them of it whenever I have an opportunity.”

“"There’s one, there’s one!” called Archie.

A. bee had just stopped at a tall white lily.
He turned into the flower. It took him some
time to go down, for there was a good way
to go, and some time to fetch out all the
materials he wanted. ‘Then he came up
buzzing, and flew away.

“Welcome, welcome!” cried the old gentle-
man. “Stay as long as you like!”

“T don’t see what he’s carrying,” said
Tom; “but I’m sure he has found something,
There—he’s stopping again for more.”

As they walked on, they met several others;
and they soon saw there were a great number
scattered about the garden, as Archie's grand-
papa had said. Then they came to a row of
their houses near the wall.

“ They’re not so big as my house,” said the
old gentleman ; “not nearly. But then, you
192 Lom Seven Vears Old.

—_——

know, the bees themselves are rather smaller
than I am.”

A great number seemed to live together,
for they came crowding out of the little hive-
\loors, buzzing as loud as they could.

“ How busy they seem, every one of them,”
said Tom.

“Yes,” said the old gentleman; “when
[ feel lazy or idle, I always go as far from
the hives as possible, in case they should see
me. They never allow anyone to be idle
inside the hive. But I do believe they would
be too hard at work, when they got outside,
even to notice I was doing nothing.”

“T like bees,’ said Archie. ‘“ Tom likes
tadpoles and lizards, but I like bees best.”

“But you can’t take them up in your hands
like tadpoles,” said Tom. His love for tad-
poles had become deeper ever since the time
Archie and he had carried some home in his
tin can, and kept them in his bath. “ Besides,
tadpoles don’t sting.”

‘“ Bees won't sting either, unless you tease

them,” said the old gentleman.
Zom aud the Bees. 193

“But I still like tadpoles the best,” answered
Tom. |

“ Now,’ said Archie’s grandpapa, “you’ve
looked long enough. It’s rude to stand star-
ing like this—you must come in and taste
their honey. Grandmamma has got some in
a pot ready for you. Come along !”

They went back to the house, meeting
a good many more bees seeking for their
materials. Grandmamma took them into the
dining-room, where there was not only a pot
of honey, but bread and butter to eat with it,
and milk to drink with it. She spread them
each a piece of bread. |

“Ts it good ?” she asked, when she gave it
them.

“Very,” said Tom. ‘“ ‘The bees have made
mine beautifully. It is as sweet as sugar,
and has a delicious taste unlike anything
else.” |

“T think,” said Archie, “that the bee that
made mine got his materials out of mignonette
—mignonette or wall-flower, I don’t know

which.”
194 Zom Seven Years Old.

we a

“No,” said Tom; “I should say from a
rose. That rose-tree that grows near the
door—you know which I mean.

When they had done eating and talking it
was time to say good-bye. The old lady
gave them each a little pot of honey to carry
home with them.

“Hold it carefully,” she said, “or it will
run out.”

“Ves,” said Tom; “the bees must have
put some water into their honey, it’s so thin.
I wonder where they get it from—if it’s rain
from the sky, or water out of the pump.”

“And here’s a little story-book for you,
Archie,” said the kind old lady; “and here’s
one for you, Tom.”

The little story-books had each bright blue
covers, with large letters outside printed in
black. |

“Qh, thank you, grandmamma!” cried
Archie. “I'll read it as we go home, if the
dogcart doesn’t jolt too much.”

Tom was just as pleased with his, and
thanked her several times; but.he settled to.
Zom and the Bees. 195

wait till he got home to read it, because he
would require to hold his honey-pot in both
his hands, and watch that it did not spill all
the time they drove along.

“Tom,” said Archie, when they were seated
in the dogcart; “tadpoles can't make honey
like bees. They can’t even make wax.”

“They make frogs,” answered Tom; “and
I like them best!”

 
 

CHAP. XXIL——-TOM MAKES ENEMIES OF TIE
WASPS.

EYSHE wasps, who were first cousins to the
bees, did not make honey like them, nor
had they houses built for them in nice gardens.
They lived anywhere, in houses of their own,
called wasp-bikes, which looked as though

YN

they were made of grey paper. Whenever
Tom saw a wasp, he carefully moved out of
his way, for they seemed to think him an
enemy, and to wish to sting him. A number
of them lived on the banks of the stream
where the tall pink and blue flowers grew,
and where ‘T’om fell in when he was a very
little boy. He and Archie used often to peep
at the wasp-bikes, taking care that none of
the wasps saw them doing so. But one day
they fairly caught Tom.
Tom and the Wasfs. 197

“JT wish,” he had been saying, “that they
would understand that we do not want to hurt
them. We only want to watch what they are
doing.”

“Never mind,” called Archie. ‘Come
away, Tom! They'll fly out and sting you,
I’m certain. Look—there’s ever so many of
them.”

“Wasps, wasps,” said Tom to them, “don’t
be angry. I’m only just going to have a look
at your house. I promise not to touch it—
but I do want to know how you make it.”

“Tom, comeaway!” called Archie. ‘“ You'll
be stung—I know you'll be stung!”

It was no use calling, Tom would not
listen. Instead of going away, he went nearer,
and bent down, pushing the branches back
with his hand. |

“I believe,” he said, in a low voice, “that
they’re all out-of-doors, for I don’t see one.”

Alas! Just at that minute, before he had
time to step back, a number of wasps flew out
of the wasp-bike, and rushed at him.

« Archie!” shouted he. He wanted to say,
198 Zom Seven Years Old.

et a I A

“Tm stung,” but could not. Archie ran to
him. Poor Tom! They covered his face,
and flew up his jacket-sleeves, stinging him
with all their might! Archie and he flew at
them in return, and, to drive them away, both
parties fought as hard as they could. The
wasps gained the. victory; for, though Tom
got free at last, it was not till after his face
and hands were red and swollen, and his eyes
half-shut. He was dreadfully stung.

“You look frightful,’ said Archie, staring
at him. “You'd better come home. What
does it feel like ?”

“Horrid,” said Tom, dolefully. “It hurt
horribly. And I can scarcely see!”

“T’'ll lead you,” said Archie. “ There, take
my hand. Let’s go home.”

_ “How they did fly at me!” said Tom, “and
wouldn’t leave off—just as though they hada
spite against me. Nasty little things!”

“You shouldn’t have gone so near,” said
Archie. “I told you so, but you wouldn’t
listen to me.” .

“And I didn’t see what the bikes were
Lom and the Wasps. 199

tr rr Se
ne A A NA a a Lm ORY maf MS SET see He ratte cienans 6 eee

made of, after all,” sighed Tom. His face
and hands were stinging with pain. Archie
led him carefully along the field to the
garden. The first person they met was the
gardener.

“Why, Master Tom!” he exclaimed,
— “you've been fighting !”

“I’m stung!” answered Tom. “The nasty
wasps rushed out of their bike and stung me,
I didn’t want to fight them, I’m sure.”

The next person they met was Richard.

“What have you been doing, Master
Tom ?” exclaimed he.

“Can’t you see?” answered Tom. He was
feeling quite cross with the wasps and every-
body.

“Dear me, Tom!” cried his mamma, when
he went into the drawing-room; “ what a figure
you are! What Zave you been doing ?”

“He’s been stung!” exclaimed Archie,
“The wasps flew at him ina great rage. It
was dreadfully hard work to get them away.”

“Come upstairs directly,” said she, “and
we'll bathe it.”
200 Zom Seven Years Old.

They followed her upstairs, and she bathed
his face and hands gently with hartshorn, until
the stinging pain felt much better.

‘“T am afraid,” said she, “you were teasing
them—were you ?”

‘No, indeed, I wasn’t,” answered Tom.
“Archie, was I? I did nothing but bend
down and look to see how their house was
made—didn’t I ?”

“Yes,” answered Archie; “that was all.
But they did not understand, and were angry,
_ and rushed at him.”

“T believe,” said Tom, “they had a spite
against me, and were watching till I passed
to fly out on me.”

“ Nonsense,” said his mamma. “It was a
mistake. They thought you were going to
tease them, and so they determined to prevent
it by teasing you.”

“Well,” said Tom, dolefully, “I’d rather be
teased by creatures who can’t sting.”

“T think you must forgive them,” said
Archie, “if it was a mistake, which I’m sure
it was. They fancied you were some nasty,
Lom and the Washs. 201

 

horrid boy, who was going to throw stones at
them.” |

“ But I wasn’t,” said Tom, “and they should
have known.”

He still felt cross, and his face and hands
were still stinging with the pain. But the
next day, when it was gone, and his eyes were
well, and when he ran down to the stream
where the wasp-bikes were, with Archie, he
really had forgiven them with all his heart.
Only he did not again venture to go near
their houses, in case they might make a
mistake a second time, and fancy he was an
enemy, and not a friend.

 
 

CHAP. XXII.—-TOM READS HIS STORY.

  

"HPALTER was a cripple. He could
YW not run or jump or play, but lay ona
sofa all day, and was only moved off it to be
carried to bed at night. His eyes often ached
so that he had to shut them, and his back
often ached so that he had to lie quite still,
and do nothing but think, and when his head
ached he could not even do that. He had
two brothers, Bernard and James, who were
as strong as he was weak. Every day they
walked to school and back again to learn
their lessons, and on Saturday afternoons they
played at football with other boys. Bernard
was going to be a soldier, and James a sailor.
Walter had also two sisters, who could run
about as much as they chose, They did
not play at football, like Bernard and James,
Lom veads his Story. 203

I A ot

because they were girls; but they could read
as long as they liked without making their
eyes ache, and work busily all day without
being obliged to stop and rest.

In the evenings, when it was quite late, and
everybody else had gone to bed, Walter’s
father used to come and sit beside him. The
lamp was put out, and the fire was allowed to
burn low. Then, when it was so dark that
Walter could not see his father’s face, and his
father could not see Walter’s, he used to tell
aloud all the happy and unhappy secrets that
he had not liked even to whisper to anyone
through the day.

“Father,” he said, one night, “ Bernard 1S
going to be a soldier, and James a sailor, and
Annie and Jessie have always plenty to do;
but I can only be a cripple, and can’t work
like other people.”

This was a dreadfully unhappy secret that
he had thought about for many days, every
minute his head did not ache too much, and
had not liked to say aloud even to his father.
But this evening the room was darker than
204 Lom Seven Years Old.

usual, and he felt it was too unhappy to
keep quite alone through the whole of another
night.

“Father,” he said, after a minute—for his
father had not answered him—*“ why don’t you
speak? Aren’t you listening? Don't you
think it’s very hard ?”

He stopped; he had really told all. Then
he heard his father moving nearer to him in
the dark, and then he felt him close beside
him.

“You see,’ whispered Walter, “I wanted
to be a great man, like Washington, or Lord
Nelson, or the Duke of Wellington. Bernard
and James may, but I never can.”

“ Walter,” said his father, “ Washington and
Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington did
not choose their work. They only did what
they were called upon to do, but they did it
so well that all the world rose up and praised
them. Nobody can choose their work—they
have just to do what they a are called upon
to do.”

“Yes, said Walter; “but nothing has been
Lom veads his Story. 205

an

given to me. I haven't been called to do
anything but lie here and ache.”

“No,” said his father, quickly; “you are
wrong. You have been called, just as much
as Washington and Lord Nelson and the
Duke of Wellington—just as much as every-
body else in the world is called, and you can
do your work as well as they did theirs.”

Walter lay quiet a minute, thinking what
was there he could do without sitting up, or
crossing the room, or using his hands or eyes ?

«“ Some kinds of work,” said his father, “can
be seen as they are being done, piece by piece.
Everybody can watch them, and praise them
when they deserve praising. But there are
other kinds of work, just as busy, that are
carried on secretly, under the surface, with
the help of God, but without the praise of
men. These kinds are often the greatest.
And it is to a hidden work that you are
called.”

Called to a hidden work—“e called! Walter
liked to think that.

“ Please tell me about it,” he said.
206. Le om Seven Years Old.

Re ee enter ee tr

“Tt will seem little to you,” went on his
father, “ because it is so hidden. But half the
work of the best workers in the world is
hidden. No one knows all that the sun and
rain do for the earth, They work quietly,
without praise.”

«“ And what is mine?” asked Walter.

“ Helping others,” said his father, “cheering
others, comforting others. You, who know so
well what pain is, are the one who can best
lighten the pain of others. Some need one kind
of help, some another. You must find out
what they require most, and give it them.
That was Christ’s hidden work. He was no
general or admiral. There are only a few
who are called to suffer and help as Christ
was, and as you are. It isa blessed hidden

work.”

“T didn’t know,” whispered Walter. “1
won't mind so much now not being a general
or an admiral. How shall I begin ?”

“ Nothing is too small,” said his father ; “it
only appears so because it 1s hidden. After
the first, you will be surprised to find how
Lom veads his Story. 207

———

 

ee

much there is to do—how many cheering
words are needed, and loving acts. It will
take all your time to find out what is to be
done, and more than your strength to do it.
But you are called to it.”

“Thank you, papa,” said Walter. “ Good-
night.”

He would not have minded the room being
light now. He would not mind either reading
the lives of Washington and Lord Nelson and
the Duke of Wellington over again, or envy
them so dreadfully. He also was called to
his great hidden work.

The sun awoke him by beginning his daily
duty of shining. Bernard, who helped him to
dress, was very cross. He had lost his ball of
string.

“You may have mine,” said Walter. It
was a very little thing to give his ball of string
away, but it was the beginning. When he
went downstairs to the dining-room he found
much more to do. His mamma had a bad
headache. He had to remind Bernard and
James to speak low. Little Jessie was teasing.
, i :
208 Tom Seven Years Old.

He called her to him after breakfast, and drew
her a picture on her slate. Then he helped
Annie with her geography, by hearing her say
over the chief towns of England three times.
In the afternoon his mamma required him,
and as soon as tea was finished James brought
him his ship to mend. At bed-time Walter
leant back, very worn out. He had been busy
all day, and yet he could not see what he had
done, or if he had done it well. It was all
hidden, as his father had said. Hecould not
help wondering if Christ felt as weary in the
evenings as he did, with helping others. But
he knew he must go on, whether he liked it
or not. Christ never gave in—no one ever
gave in who wanted to do their work well.
So he followed his calling patiently, hour by
hour and day by day, working in small things,
and not seeing what he was doing. At the
end of a month his father was sitting with
him again in the dark. Walter had another
secret to tell. It was this—

“Papa, I’m so tired!”

“Never mind,” said his father. “You
Lom veads his Story. 209

   

have begun. Finish your work. It will not
be always hidden. The Master is watching
His servants, and sees everything. And at
the end, do you know what He will say,
Walter ?”

“No, papa,’ whispered Walter.

“Well done, good and faithful servant!”
said his father. |

 
 

CHAP. XXIII.—TOM DANCES AT MATTY S WEDDING
AND MAKES A SPEECH,

MP ATTY was going to be married, and

there was to be a dance in the farm-

 

kitchen, and Tom was invited togo, Though
he had learnt a good many dancing steps,
he generally forgot all about them as soon
as the music struck up, and only jumped
about in the way that made him feel happiest.
When he went in, the farm-kitchen was quite
full of people, all ready to begin to dance.
and be happy. Matty had a green gown on,
and no apron, and her hair was _ brushed
smooth, and her sleeves were not tucked up,
but pulled down to her wrists.

“I’m so glad you're happy,” said Tom.
“Old Benjamin will be so glad. I’m happy.
also. Everybody seems happy.”
Lom dances at Matty’s Wedding. 211

“Jim,” said Matty to the man standing
beside her, “this is Master Tom; you re-
member Master Tom? Jim’s my husband,
Master Tom.”

“Oh!” said Tom. He looked just like
any other man in the room, only his face was
a little redder. “Good evening, Jim; how
do you do? I hope you are quite well.”

He did not know what else to say to
Matty’s husband.

“ Quite well, thank you, sir,” said Jim.

“And I hope,” said Tom, suddenly re-
membering something he wanted to tell him,
“that youll keep Matty happy. She was
very miserable a little while ago. I tried to
make her happy, and couldn’t. Oh! there’s
the music. Matty, will you dance with me,
please?” Tom could not reach Matty’s
waist without stretching very high up, so he
took her hand, and they danced round and
round together, any steps they chose, up and
down the room. Everybody else was doing
the same. Only Jim stood quite still, leaning
against the wall.
212 Zlom Seven Years Old.

oer NE on

 

 

 

“Why isn’t he dancing?” asked Tom,
while they were stopping to take breath, for
it was very hard work.

“He's waiting for me, I suppose, Master
‘T'om,” answered she.

“Oh!” said Tom, “you can tell him he
needn't wait, because I mean to dance with
you all the evening.”

“Tom!” called his papa, just at that minute;
“come here. You've danced quite long
enough with Matty.”

He was very sorry to leave her, but Jim
seemed very glad indeed, and began dancing
with her at once. Tom now looked round
for somebody else, and to see which was the
biggest, because he always liked to dance
with somebody much bigger than himself.
His papa was standing by the table talking
to the farmer. The farmer’s wife was sitting
near, listening. She was not only very tall,
but very thick. Her face was as red as
Matty’s husband’s, and on the top of it she
had a cap with green grass and snowdrops
growing in it, which nodded whenever she
Lom dances at Matty’s Wedding. 213

spoke. Tom went up to her and took her
hand.

“ Please, | want to dance with you.”

She turned her great round face, and burst
out laughing.

“Why, Master Tom!” cried she; “me
dance—what a notion! How should we get
along together ?”

“Qh, don’t you hear the music?” cried
Tom; “it’s calling us to begin. Do come!”

He was afraid of losing a single minute of
being happy.

“Go, Sarah,” said the farmer, laughing
also. ‘Master Tom and you will make a
lovely couple. Don’t refuse him.”

So they began. It was even harder work
than dancing with Matty, because the farmer's
wife was much heavier to move along, and
her breath came and went so quickly, and she
was laughing all the time. The other couples
soon stopped to look at them, and laugh also.
Tom felt very proud. He had got the biggest
person in the room to dance with him. Sud-

denly she stopped.
214 Tom Seven Years Old.

“What are you stopping for?” asked lom,
in a great hurry to begin again. She had
pulled out her handkerchief, and was fanning
herself, and her face was redder than ever,
and she seemed very hot.

“Why, mother,” cried Jim, coming up,
“think of you dancing like this! Who'd
have thought it ?”

“Matty’s husband,” said Tom, “I thought
you must be her son, because your face is so
red. What’s the matter with her? Why
doesn’t she go on?”

“The breath’s almost quite knocked out of
her,” said he. ‘ Maybe she’d like to rest.
Here’s a chair, mother.”’

Tom could not understand how anyone
could bear to sit down while the music was
still playing. So he ran away to find some-
body else to dance with, and as he could
not have the biggest person in the room, to
get the next biggest. A country dance was
just beginning, in which big and small danced
together, and Tom was madé to join in it.
Everybody else seemed to know what they
Zom makes a Speech. 215

 

 

were doing, but he was just as happy running
anyway in and out among them, stopping to
jump whenever the music played specially
loud, and at last got nearly as hot and red
in the face as the farmer’s wife, and ran quite
out of breath as she had.

“Tom!” called his papa’s voice again from
the other end of the room; “come here.”

He was still standing by the table, on which
was a great round cake covered with sugar,
like a birthday cake. Jim and Matty also
stood near. They both looked very happy,
even though they were not dancing.

“Tom,” said his papa, handing him a wine-
glass of cider, “you must drink Matty and
Jim’s health.”

The music stopped suddenly.

“Well,” said his papa, “we're all waiting.”

Tom did not exactly know what to do, but
he emptied his glass and said—

“Matty and Matty’s husband, I hope your
health will be as good as this cider.”

And everybody laughed, so he saw he had
not made a mistake. Then all the others
216 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

drank Matty and Jim’s health; and then
Tom’s papa lifted him upon the table, and
told him to make a speech.

“What shall I say?” whispered Tom.

“ Anything you like,” said his papa.

Tom always liked speaking, because he
always had a great deal to say; and the more
people he had to hear him say it, of course,
the better he liked it.

“ Matty’s husband,” he began, “ I’m talking
to you, though everybody else may listen.
Please, make Matty happy. Old Benjamin
will feel happier if she is happy also. I
wanted to marry Matty myself, but I’m not
tall enough yet. When I come back from
school I shall be much taller, and then I
mean to marry her. What are you laughing
at? I didn’t intend to say anything funny.
Papa has just whispered to me to wish you
some good wishes, It isn’t Christmas, or I
should wish you many happy returns, but I
hope you and Matty may have a great many
more weddings, and that I may always be
allowed to dance at them. Don’t laugh; I
Lom makes a Speech. 217

really mean it. Papa says I must stop now,
but I haven’t nearly done.”

He jumped down from the table. Every-
body was still laughing, though Tom could
not understand why. Then they gave three
cheers for Tom, and Tom helped in the
cheering as loud as he could, for he liked
cheering almost as much as dancing. And
then they gave three cheers for Tom’s papa
and mamma, and three cheers again for Matty
and her husband. By that time Tom was
quite tired of dancing, and cheering, and talk-
ing, and laughing.

“Say good-bye,” said his papa.

“Good-bye, Matty,” said Tom. “I'm
sorry I’m not tall enough to marry you at
once, but when I come back from school I
shall be much taller. Matty’s husband, keep
her happy till then, will you ?”

So saying, he ran away.

 
 

CHAP. XXIV.—TOM READS ARCHIE’S STORY.

9 N the time when fairies still lived in the
A world, there were four children in a cer-
tain village very anxious to see them. They
had looked out for them constantly all through
the summer and winter days, in all kinds of
fairy-like places, walking on tiptoe so as not
to frighten them away, and yet they had
never even come across one of their houses,
far less a fairy himself. At length they went
to Ralph, the schoolmaster’s son, who knew
a great deal, but spoke little, and never told
what he knew. He had never really said
that he had seen the fairies, still they were
perfectly certain he had. He listened care-
fully to what they told him, and then he sat
quite quiet a minute thinking.
Lom reads Archie's Story. 219

Pere =

“Have | you looked by the river in the
moonlight ?” asked he.

“No, cried the children ; “ how could we?
Were in bed then.”

“Ah!” answered Ralph; “no wonder
you haven't seen them, if you go to bed
so early.”

“ But we'll ask to sit up for one night,” said
the children. “We're sure to get leave if it’s
really to see the fairies.”

“"There’s something besides that,” said
Ralph. ‘You must make a present to tempt
them. Prepare something very nicely, and
then watch if they do not come to fetch it
away.”

“How stupid we were,” said the children,
“not to have thought of that before. Of
course, that’s why they've never been near
us. But what would the fairies like best,
Ralph ?”

“ Suppose,” said Ralph, “that you were
to build them some ships. They're sure to
be always wanting new ships. Then you
can set them in a little bay of the river, all
220 Tom Seven Years Old.

a mi

ready for them to get in and sail away down
to the sea.”

“Oh yes,” cried the children, delighted.
The very same evening they kept their
empty walnut-shells and nut-shells from des-
sert and carried them secretly upstairs ; and
the very next day, as soon as their lesson®
were done, they set to work to build them
into ships. The larger vessels were built of
walnut-shells, with two sails made of the
crimson petals of the peony flower, and six
oars made of the stalks of six daisies, nicely
shaped at the end. And the smaller vessels
were made of nut-shells, with the yellow
petals of the marigold for sails, and four oars
made of the stalks of the pimpernel, also
nicely shaped at the end. There were twelve
large vessels and nine small in the fleet.
When they were quite finished and set in a
row, they looked really beautiful, and the
children only wished they were small enough
themselves to get into them and row down
the river in the moonlight to the sea. ‘They
carried them straight to Ralph to know if he
Lom veads Archie's Story. 221

a ee

thought they would do for the fairies. He
did not tell them what he thought, but they
guessed from his face that he was more
satished than he cared to appear. He led
them at once to the river to choose the place
where to set the fleet ready. They fixed
upon a dear little bay, with a shore of tiny
pebbles, and a steep cliff about three inches
high, with a thick forest of grass growing on
the top. There was also a dear little wind-
ing path leading down to it for the fairies to
walk along.

“We mustn't stand too near,” said Ralph,
“or we shall disturb them. They can't bear
to feel themselves watched; and we mustn't
make the slightest noise.”

The children had asked leave to stay up on
purpose to see the fairies, and they were
allowed to do so, on condition that Ralph
went with them, and that they were all
home before the clock struck one. They
were to start that same evening, and could
scarcely eat any tea for thinking about it.
Ralph met them outside the gate. He walked
222 Tom Seven Years Old.

first, and they all followed on tiptoe one after
the other. Nobody spoke. It was very dark
and strange. The wood did not look like
the same wood that they knew so well in the
day-time. The trees seemed taller, and their
branches stretched over them like long black
arms. Then there were strange noises—
birds that had not fallen asleep, but were
tossing about in their nests, or creatures who
sat up late, and had not yet gone to bed, but
were still creeping round them. Suddenly

Ralph stopped.

“Listen!” said he. They listened. Every
now and then there was a rustling kind of
noise. Each one of the children heard it
distinctly.

“It's the wind,” they said in a whisper.

“The wind!” repeated Ralph. Oh dear
no! That’s not the wind.”

_ And the children at once understood it was
the fairies moving. They could not help
hoping that they were on their way to the
little narrow path down to the bay, where
the ships were lying waiting.
Tom veads Archie's Story. 223

“Come quicker,” said Ralph. He seemed
afraid they might be late. They hurried on.
But as they reached the river, they suddenly
saw a great yellow face staring at them
through the black branches.

“Look!” they whispered, horribly fright.
ened; “there’s somebody there watching us.
Ralph, who is it ?”

“What are you stopping for?” called
Ralph, impatiently. ‘“ We’re too late as it is.
What are you stopping for ?” |

“Look!” repeated they, without moving ;
“who's that ?”

“How stupid you are!” cried Ralph.
“Don’t you know the face of the moon?
Haven't you seen her a hundred times be-
fore? Come along, do!”

“The moon!” exclaimed the children.
They were ashamed at not knowing her face

through the black branches; but somehow |

she looked different, like everything else, and
they still felt very shy of her, old friend
though she was.

At last they reached the place. Ralph

&
ee

. Br
sae ae weg
yee
Sey

ve,
: sy *
* Wan
a

©
Be
224 Tom Seven Years Old.

stood still, and bent forward. They all heard
a great rustling; then it stopped.

“Ah! said Ralph; “I knew it. Look!”
The children looked, ‘The boats were gone.
They were too late. The fairies had just
sailed away.

“Oh dear, dear!” said they. ‘“ They can
only just have gone, for we heard them mov-
ing a minute ago! How far will they have
sailed down the river, Ralph ?”

Ralph shook his head.

“T really can’t say,” said he.

It was very disappointing. They turned
to the moon. No doubt she could still see
them, because she was so much higher up,
and looked a long way down the river. But
she shone quite quietly, and never told what
she saw. It was no use asking her.

There was nothing to be done but to go
home again.

“Never mind,” said Ralph. “You see
they liked the ships, or they wouldn’t have
sailed away in them so quickly.”

“Yes,” said the children, “that’s a comfort.
Lom veads Archie's Story. 22

 

And we heard them distinctly, though we
didn’t see them. And we'll make some more,
and come out again and watch.”

Ihe moon shone kindly on them as they
walked along, so that they soon lost all their
shyness of her, and wondered how it was
they were ever afraid. They reached home
just as the clock struck one, and settled the
very next day, as soon as their lessons were
done, to build some more ships, even better
and prettier, and to go out and watch again
to see the fairies get in and sail down the
river to the sea. But, somehow, though they
often heard them moving, they never actually
saw the fairies.

 
 

CHAP. XXV.—TOM THINKS HE HEARS ROBBERS.

sySOM was very sorry indeed that there

) were no more fairies or elves to be found
anywhere in the world except in story-books
and the Pantomime, and that giants and
giantesses were so seldom seen, and robbers
so rarely met with. He thought it would
be a grand thing to get up in the middle
of the night, when everybody was asleep,
to catch the robbers just as they were
breaking into the house, and frighten them
away all by himself, and save everything
from being stolen. When he was staying in
London, his cousin Bob had given him a de-
lightful stick—nearly as nice as his own—
which Tom always kept in the corner of his
room, to have it ready. Doggie used to watch -
downstairs; but Tom thought he might very
Tom thinks he hears Robbers. 227

ee

likely not hear anybody come in on the upper
landing; and he knew, whenever robbers did
come, they came suddenly.

One night—it was in the winter-time—he
woke up in the dark, and heard a noise. He
lay quite still and listened. It was not cats
squalling, or mice squeaking; and it was not
quite inside the room, but somewhere near,
outside it. Hesat up and listened more care-
fully. The noise stopped, and began again—
it was a horrid, scraping noise. He was certain
robbers were in the house, and, jumping out of
bed, felt for his stick in the corner, and found
it. Then he ran out into the passage. It
was just as dark and cold as the night he went
with his cousin Bob, in London, to frighten
the cats off the slates, but he did not mind it
half so much, because he had been watching
so long for robbers, and wanting them to
come. He crept as far as the drawing-room
landing, then stopped and listened again.
The scraping noise had completely ceased,
but he could hear the robbers moving down-
stairs, and even caught their voices talking.
228 Tom Seven Years Old.

 

“They’re in the kitchen,” thought Tom,
holding his stick still tighter—“ in the kitchen,
stealing the plates. I wonder Doggie doesnt
hear them, and bark. He must be asleep.
Papa will have to punish him to-morrow
morning for not watching.”

He crept further down. On the kitchen
stairs he stood still to think what he should
do first. He was not at all frightened, but
determined that his papa and mamma should
not know anything about it till he had sent
the robbers away all by himself. But from
the footsteps moving, and the voices, he knew
there must be a great many of them. There
was a light shining under the kitchen door,
which he could not understand. While he
stood settling what to do, the kitchen door
opened, and somebody walked out. Tom felt
the moment had come. He raised his stick.

“Bless my heart, Master Tom,” cried the
voice of Jane the housemaid; “what brings
you down at this hour of the morning ?”

She held a candle in her hand, high up, so
~ as to look at him.
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A FALSE ALARM.

 
Lom thinks he hears Robbers. 229

 

“T thought I heard robbers,” answered
Tom, dropping his stick at once. “And
Doggie didn’t bark, as he ought to have done.
Isn’t it the middle of the night >?”

“The middle of the night!” exclaimed
Jane, laughing. “Why, it’s five o’clock in the
morning. And it’s the sweeps you’ve been
hearing—no robbers. Go back to bed, Master
Tom, as fast as you can You'll catch your
death of cold.”

“Only the sweeps!” exclaimed Tom. He
was very sorry they were not robbers. “But
I heard a scraping noise—what was that ?”

“The chimnies being swept,” said Jane,
laughing still more. ‘“ Why, what have you
been dreaming about? Go back to bed this
instant, Master Tom, or you'll be catching
your death of cold, and what will your mamma
say in the morning ?”

Tom turned and went upstairs. It was very
sad—only the sweeps !—when he had got up
on purpose with his stick to frighten the
robbers away !

He went back to bed, even though it was

 
230 Tom Seven Years Old.

a

 

 

morning, and fell asleep again. Suddenly
he awoke with a great start, calling out,
“ Robbers! robbers !”

“ Neither robbers nor sweeps, but mamma, ’
said his mamma’s voice. She was carrying
his breakfast on a little tray.

“Why,” said Tom, rubbing his eyes; “how
is it 'm not up, dressed, and downstairs,
eating my: breakfast ?”

“You never heard papa calling you, I
suppose,” said she, sitting down beside him ;
“or perhaps you were quite worn out, after
fighting with so many robbers, Tom!”

Tom began to remember all about it. His
stick standing in the corner of the room
reminded him.

“Eat your breakfast,” said his mamma.

“I wanted papa to punish Doggie for not
_ barking,” said Tom; “but then, you know, I
thought they were robbers. He mustn’t now.”

“No; certainly not,” said she. “ Doggie
knows the sweeps quite well. -And you must

know them also another time, when you hear
them, Tom.”
Lom thinks he hears Robbers. 231

 

“I thought it was the middle of the night,”
said Tom, sighing; “and I thought, if they
were robbers, they might steal everything.
So I went down with my stick—there it is in
the corner—to catch them.”

“Thank you, Tom,” said his mamma; “I
didn’t know that you kept watch with Doggie.”

‘“ But there’s no use watching!” said Tom,
sorrowfully. “Robbers never come! I’ve
never once seen one all my life, and I don’t
believe Doggie has either—at least he never
barks.”

“Perhaps they don’t come because they're
afraid with such a good dog watching,” said
his mamma; “they think it wiser to keep
away.”

“Perhaps that zs the reason,” said Tom;
“and perhaps they know I’m watching also,
and are afraid of me. And perhaps they've
seen my stick, and it makes them still more
afraid !” |

It pleased him to think that. As soon as
he had finished his breakfast, and was dressed,
his papa sent for him to hear all about the
232 Tom Seven Years Old.

robbers; and when Richard saw him, he said
“he hoped Master Tom wasn’t the worse of
the fight.” And even the gardener wanted
to know how he had meant to knock them
down with his stick; and Jane asked a great
many questions. They seemed all very much
interested, and very much amused. Tom had
to tell it over and over again, and always
ended with saying—

“ But wasn’t it a pity that it was only the
sweeps, and not really and truly robbers ?”

 
 

CHAP, XXVI.—TOM GOES BLACKBERRYING, AND
MAKES BLACKBERRY JAM.

CYSHE blackberries in the hedges were ripe,
and it was time to go and pick them.

“Tom,” said his mamma, “don’t you think

it would be nice to get some for Archie’s

grandmamma, and send her a pot of black-

YN

berry jam, when she was kind enough to give
you that pot of nice honey ?”

“Ves,” said Tom; “very nice, indeed.
And we will eat the scum.”

He went to find Archie at once, and tell
him about tt.

“Are you fond of scum?” he asked, as
soon as he had done so.

“Of course,” said Archie. “ Everybody
is.”
They started, carrying a large basket to
234 Zom Seven Years Odd.

hold the blackberries. Tom jumped across
the ditch, and began to pull them.

“Take care,” said Archie. “ You'll scratch
yourself.”

“T don’t mind scratching myself,” said
Tom, “as long as my eyes aren’t scratched
out. Of course that wouldn’t do, because
then I couldn’t see the blackberries.”

Archie did not like jumping across the ditch
and being scratched, so he left it to Tom;
but he did a great deal of work in a quiet
way. When Tom came toa blackberry much
bigger and blacker than the others, he ate it
himself. Sometimes there were three or four
on one stalk bigger and blacker than the rest,
which he was obliged to eat. This took up a
good deal of time. Archie did not eat so
many, but then he did not pick so many,
because he could not reach them without
getting scratched. They picked and ate very
busily till it was dinner-time, and the basket
was nearly full.

“T’ve had enough,” said Tom. “ Let’s go
home.”
Lom goes Blackberrying. 235

“Very well,” said Archie. “I’m quite
ready. Give me the basket.”

Tom looked as though he had been fighting,
instead of only picking and eating blackberries.
His jacket-sleeve was torn, and his face and
_ hands were scratched and stung with nettles.
To make matters worse, in jumping back from
the hedge on to the road, he slipped and fell
into the ditch. It was not deep enough to
drown him, but quite deep enough to soak
through his boots, and cover his stockings
with nasty brown mud, and make him look
like a water-plant just pulled up by the roots.
Archie was very sorry for him, and helped to
drag him out as quick as he could.

“What shall we do?” said he, looking at
Tom’s soaking boots and black stockings.

“Never mind,” said Tom. ‘“ The black-
berries are safe. I’m thankful they did not
fall in with me, because it would have been
worse than picking up the tadpoles to have
picked ¢hem up. You goon. Id rather the
blackberries were carried in safe. I'll stand a
minute in the sun to dry.”
236 Zom Seven Years Old.

CS

While Tom stood drying in the sun, he
tried to scrape the mud off his stockings as
best he could, because he was ashamed that
Richard, when he opened the door, should
see he had fallen into the ditch. He had
already fallen in three times, and he did
not like Richard to know he had done so
again. Long before his legs were dry he

got tired of standing in the sun, so he ran
after Archie and the blackberries.

“What do I look like now?” he asked.
Archie stared at him from head to foot.

“All scratched, and torn, and muddy, and
queer,” answered he.

“Then Pl get behind you,” said Tom.
“You walk in first, and carry the basket. It
will help to hide me.” |

They reached the house. Richard opened
the door. Tom hid as well as he could behind
Archie and the basket; but, of course, no
sooner had they walked into the passage than
Richard saw all his back and legs. |

“Why, Master Tom,” cried he, « you've
fallen into the ditch again, I do believe.”
Lom goes Blackberrying. 237

a

“Well, Richard,” answered Tom, “and if
I have, you needn’t say it to anybody. And
the blackberries are safe—that’s the chief
thing.”

 

“You'd better go straight upstairs, Master
Tom,” said Richard, “and get dried.”

“Yes,” said Tom. “I dried myself in the
sun, but it hasn’t done it properly. Archie,
watch the blackberries. Don’t make them
into jam till I come.”

“No,” answered Archie. “I'll sit beside
them without touching them.”

Tom soon came down again, with clean
boots and stockings, and the hole in his sleeve
mended. Only the scratches and nettle-stings
remained on his face and hands. As soon as
dinner was over, Archie and he ran down to
the kitchen to make the blackberries into jam.
There was a great fire all ready blazing, and
a great pot to boil them in, and a great pile
of sugar to mix with them.

Tom liked being in the kitchen, but was
not often allowed to go down to it, because it
was the cook’s sitting-room—not his. He
238 Lom Seven Years Old.

thought the rows of china plates on the wall
looked just as nice as the ornaments in the
drawing-room, and the fireplace was much
bigger, and always had a brighter fire burn-
ing in it. When the fruit was quite ready,
the cook put it into the pot, with the sugar,
to boil into jam, and Tom jumped round the
table in waiting. It took some time to make,
just as everything else did, and at last the
cook said that they had better go upstairs,
and she would send it to them as soon as it
was ready. Tom and Archie both looked
into the pot, to see how it was getting on.
They would have liked to have tasted it, to
have seen what half-made jam tasted like, but
it was too burning-hot to swallow.

“But the scum,” said Tom: “we always
have the scum for tea. You won't forget
that ?”

She promised not to do so. And she kept
her word. ‘The scum came up in a saucer at
tea-time, warm and frothy and good; and
Archie and Tom finished it. )

When the blackberries were quite boiled
Lom goes Blackberrying. — 230

 

into jam, and the sugar was no more to be
seen, it was poured into two large white jars,
and covered with white paper, and tied round
with string. Then Tom wrote on the top—
“Inside this is blackberry jam ;” and then he
sent it to Archie’s grandmamma to eat, with
a note which he wrote all by himself, and did
not spoil witha single blot. And this is what
he said—

“My DEAR NICE oLD Lapy,—We picked
these blackberries, and the cook boiled them
into jam. I got dreadfully scratched. Archie
did not. I hope the cook has made the jam
as well as the bees made the honey you gave
me. I have eaten it all up, because it was
so good. Good-bye, dear nice old lady.—
You know my name is “Tom.”

Archie also sent a pot of jam, covered with
white paper, and tied round with string.
And he also sent a note, written by himself,
and without a single blot, like Tom’s. He

wrote—
Q
240 Zom Seven Years Old.

“My DEAR GRANDMAMMA,—I send you a
pot of blackberry jam. I hope you will like
it. I hope grandpapa is quite well. I hope
you are quite well, and the peacocks, and
the bees. —With much love, I remain, your
affectionate grandchild, “ ARCHIE.

a

“P.S.—I forgot the poor shabby peahen.
I hope she is quite well.”

 
 

CHAP, XXVII.—TOM PREPARES A NEW SURPRISE.

YN

ee was soon to go to school, to learn
} what other boys learnt before they grew
up into men. He did not like lessons at all,
and yet he wanted to know everything; so, of
course, as learning was the only way to do it,
he had to learn, whether he liked it or not.
He was still very busy collecting wood to
build his ship, and Archie was helping him,
for he had promised to take Archie with him,
as he was just as eager to see freezing cold
Iceland and burning hot India, and to ride on
a camel’s back through the deserts of Arabia,
as Tom was. But though the ship was not
even begun to be built, Tom felt much more
content to wait, knowing now, as he did, that
everybody round him had often to wait for
what they most wanted—the seeds before
242 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

aearinatea eran A.

a ae a nc tra

 

they grew up into plants, and the buds be-
fore they burst into flowers; blackberries
before they boil into jam, and tadpoles before
they turn into frogs; and that even grown-
up people could not always get what they
wanted the first minute they wished for it.
But Tom was very sorry when he thought
of all the dear birds and beasts in the Zoo-
logical Gardens, who were obliged to wait
till his ship was ready to carry them back to
their own homes in the north and south and
east and west, scattered over the world, where
they might run about again quite free and
happy ever after. He was also very sorry to
think they did not even know he was coming.
His only comfort was, that the surprise of his
going suddenly might make them all the
happier. And Tom had another surprise in
his head, which he meant to keep as a great
secret and tell nobody. .After he had been
to school, and could write a small hand, and .
do all sums without a single mistake, and
name all the towns, and rivers, and mountains

in his geography book, and after he had
Lom prepares a New Surprise. 243

finished the History of England, and could
talk Latin and Greek, and knew all that other .
boys knew, and-could do all that other boys
could do, he intended to be a great man.
This, he believed, would be the very greatest
and nicest surprise he could possibly give his
papa and mamma—much greater and nicer
than the picture he painted and laid on her
dressing-table when he was a little boy, a long
time ago. And he meant-to say nothing at
all about it till he had everything quite ready.
When he was in London he had settled to be
a shoe-black, and wear a red jacket, and have
a little pot of blacking, and two blacking
brushes of his very own. But since then he
had begun to change his mind, for he liked
to change his mind a great many times before
he ever settled anything. He was not quite
sure whether he would be a great soldier, like
the Duke of Wellington; or a great sailor, like
Lord Nelson; or a great policeman, which his
cousin Jack wanted to be; or a great shoe-
black ; or great in some hidden work like the
cripple Walter, in his story-book; or great
244 Zom Seven Years Old.

 

 

like the martyrs, in giving up what he liked
best. But, anyway, whatever he was, or
whatever he did, he determined to give his
papa and mamma a delightful surprise, and
be a great man. So, when the time came for
him to go to school, he was glad, and not
sorry; for he thought there, where he was
going to learn so many things, he might also
find out how to be great. He kept it a secret
even from Archie, who came to spend the
last afternoon with him, and helped him to
tidy and dust his things in his cupboard, and
say good-bye to each one separately. It was
only when he had to say good-bye to his
mamma, and they both felt dreadfully un-
happy, that he could scarcely keep from
telling her what a nice, nice surprise he
meant to get ready for her before he came
back, that she knew nothing about. but,
really, just at that minute he was so miserable
that he would have preferred giving up his
surprise altogether, and going to school, and
learning anything all his life, rather than
leave home, if he could. However, his papa
lom prepares a New Surprise. 245

did not seem to think whether he would like
best to go or stay, but took him to the school
without once asking him. And at the last
minute, when Tom was giving him the very,
very last hug, his papa whispered to him—

“Now, Tom, my boy, remember I shall
expect you to do great things.”

Tom whispered back—

“Oh yes, yes; I'll tell you, but don’t tell
mamma, please—it’s a surprise I’m _prepar-
ing for her—I mean to be a great man!”

 

neonates ts netlabel mcr RA EER TA SANE
preseason ronerr aden SOR a Re enema

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This important work consists of Forty-four Plates, printed
in Colors, in facsimile of Original Drawings made by the
Author. It shows how the common Plants and Flowers of the
Field may be used to produce endless variety of inventive form,
for all manner of decorative purposes. The Plates are accom-
panied by a careful Treatise on the whole subject.

Hulme’s Freehand Ornament. Sixty Examples for the
Use of Drawing Classes. By F. E. Huumg, F.LS., F.S.A.
Imperial 8vo. Price 5s. Mounted on Millboard, cloth-bound
edges. Price 10s.

‘To the Student of Drawing this book is a mine of well-drawn examples.
. oe Cannot fail to be useful to the decorative sculptor, the book-
binder, the manufacturer of textile fabrics of every description in which
patterns are employed, and to many others whom it is not needful to
point out.”—Art Journal.

sar Both these Works have been adopted by H. M. Departinent of
Science and Art for Copies and Prizes.
8 Marcus Ward & Co’s List of New Looks.

6 eee

 

Children’s Coloured Picture Volumes,

Marcus Ward’s Japanese Picture-Books. I wenty-
eight Large Pictures of Aladdin, Abou Hassan, Ali Baba, and
Sindbad, printed in Colors. ‘The Stories told in [hyine.
Imperial 4to, picture boards. Price 4s. Cloth extra, Price 5s.
Also, in Four Books, Japanned Covers, 1s. each.

Marcus Ward’s Fable Picture-Book. Twenty-four
large Pictures of Animals ana their Masters, drawn in Colors,
exemplifying the Fables of Atsop, with the Fables in easy
words. Imperial 4to, picture boards. Price 4s. Cloth extra,
Price 5s. Also, in Four Books, Paper Covers, 1s. each.

[New Edition.

Marcus Ward's Golden Picture-Book of Fairy
Tales and Legends. Forty eight Full-page Illustrations in
Gold and Colors. Imperial 4to, picture boards. Price 4s.

Struwwelpeter: Funny Picture-Stories in the Struw-
welpeter Manner, ‘‘In Merry mood for children good; with

moral sad for children bad.” Twenty-four pages in Colors,
enamelled boards. Price 2s. Also, in Two Books, Paper Covers,
Is. each,

Golden Rhymes of Olden Tymes. Large Imperial

, Octavo, containing the familiar Nursery Rhymes, told in 32

large Medieval Pictures in Gold and Colors, with the Rhymes

set to Music. Cloth extra, Price 3s. Also, tn Four Books,
Paper Covers, 6d. each.

THE SHAKSPEREAN CALENDAR
A Novel Almanac and Daily Date Calendar, for the Library

or Boudoir. Beautifully Printed in Colors, from a Design by
WALTER CRANE. Price 1s. 6d. The Information comprises
Sunrise and Sunset, Moon’s Changes, Festivals, Holidays, &e.,
with an appropriate .
QUOTATION FROM SHAKSPERE FOR EACH DAY IN THE YRAn,

LONDON: 67 & 68, Chandos Street; and Royal Ulster Works, BELFAST.
 

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