hrough the bushes. And mayn't I come
again? Perhaps if we both tried together we could find the way to
fairyland. Do you think we could?"

"I don't know," said Griselda, dreamily.

"There's a great deal to learn first, the cuckoo says."

"Have you learnt a great deal?" (he called it "a gate deal") asked Phil,
looking up at Griselda with increased respect. "_I_ don't know scarcely
nothing. Mother was ill such a long time before she went away, but I
know she wanted me to learn to read books. But nurse is too old to teach
me."

"Shall I teach you?" said Griselda. "I can bring some of my old books
and teach you here after I have done my own lessons."

"And then mother _would_ be surprised when she comes back," said Master
Phil, clapping his hands. "Oh, _do_. And when I've learnt to read a
great deal, do you think the cuckoo would show us the way to fairyland?"

"I don't think it was that sort of learning he meant," said Griselda.
"But I dare say that would help. I _think_," she went on, lowering her
voice a little, and looking down gravely into Phil's earnest eyes, "I
_think_ he means mostly learning to be very good--very, _very_ good, you
know."

"Gooder than you?" said Phil.

"Oh dear, yes; lots and lots gooder than me," replied Griselda.

"_I_ think you're very good," observed Phil, in a parenthesis. Then he
went on with his cross-questioning.

"Gooder than mother?"

"I don't know your mother, so how can I tell how good she is?" said
Griselda.

"_I_ can tell you," said Phil, importantly. "She is just as good as--as
good as--as good as _good_. That's what she is."

"You mean she couldn't be better," said Griselda, smiling.

"Yes, that'll do, if you like. Would that be good enough for us to be,
do you think?"

"We must ask the cuckoo," said Griselda. "But I'm sure it would be a
good thing for you to learn to read. You must ask your nurse to let you
come here every afternoon that it's fine, and I'll ask my aunt."

"I needn't ask nurse," said Phil composedly; "she'll never know where I
am, and I needn't tell her. She doesn't care what I do, except tearing
my clothes; and when she scolds me, _I_ don't care."

"_That_ isn't good, Phil," said Griselda gravely. "You'll never be as
good as good if you speak like that."

"What should I say, then? Tell me," said the little boy submissively.

"You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I'm
much bigger than you, and I won't let you tear