122 THE LAND OF PLUCK

been a toad! Queer, though, how very much it sounded
like ‘no-one-to-help’! Poor mother! I don’t help her
much, I know. Pshaw! what if I do love her, I ’m not
the least bit of use, for I never know what to start about
doing. What in all botheration makes me so lazy!
Heigh-ho!” and Tom threw himself upon the grass, an
image of despair. ‘He ‘Il never amount to anything, the
King said. Now, what did he mean by that ?”

“Dilly, dally !” said another mysterious voice, speaking
far up among the branches overhead.

Tom was getting used to it. He just lifted his eyebrows
a little and wondered what bird that was. In a moment
he found himself puzzling over the strange words.

“«Dilly, dally, it said, I declare. Oh dear! It’s too
bad to have to hear such things all the time. And then,
there ’s the King’s ugly speech; a fellow is n’t agoing to
stand everything !”

He rested his elbows upon his knees, holding his face
between his hands ; and, although he felt very wretched, he
could n’t help wondering whether the daisies crowding in
his shadow did n’t think it was growing late. They cer-
tainly nodded as if they felt sleepy.

Suddenly his hat, which had tumbled from his head and
now lay near him, began to twitch strangely.

“Pshaw!” almost sobbed Tom, “what ’s coming now, I
wonder?”

“Tam,” said a piping voice.

“Where are you?” he asked, trembling.

“Here. Under your hat. Lift it off”

While Tom was wondering whether to obey or not, the