to a dinner-party that I really enjoyed. And Bruno
tossed his head, and said, in a rather offended tone, that I might do
as I pleased--there were many he knew that would give their ears to go.

"Have you ever been yourself, Bruno?"

"They invited me once last year," Bruno said, very gravely. "It was to
wash up the soup-plates--no, the cheese-plates I mean--that was g'and
enough. But the g'andest thing of all was, _I_ fetched the Duke of
Dandelion a glass of cider!"

"That _was_ grand!" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.

"Wasn't it!" said Bruno, very earnestly. "You know it isn't every one
that's had such an honor as _that_!"

This set me thinking of the various queer things we call "an honor" in
this world, which, after all, haven't a bit more honor in them than
what the dear little Bruno enjoyed (by the way, I hope you're beginning
to like him a little, naughty as he was?) when he took the Duke of
Dandelion a glass of cider.

I don't know how long I might have dreamed on in this way if Bruno
hadn't suddenly roused me.

"Oh, come here quick!" he cried, in a state of the wildest excitement.
"Catch hold of his other horn! I can't hold him more than a minute!"

He was struggling desperately with a great snail, clinging to one of
its horns, and nearly breaking his poor little back in his efforts to
drag it over a blade of grass.

I saw we should have no more gardening if I let this sort of thing go
on, so I quietly took the snail away, and put it on a bank where he
couldn't reach it. "We'll hunt it afterward, Bruno," I said, "if you
really want to catch it. But what's the use of it when you've got it?"

"What's the use of a fox when you've got it?" said Bruno. "I know you
big things hunt foxes."

I tried to think of some good reason why "big things" should hunt
foxes, and he shouldn't hunt snails, but none came into my head: so I
said at last, "Well, I suppose one's as good as the other. I'll go
snail-hunting myself, some day."

"I should think you wouldn't be so silly," said Bruno, "as to go
snail-hunting all by yourself. Why, you'd never get the snail along, if
you hadn't somebody to hold on to his other horn!"

"Of course I sha'n't go alone," I said, quite gravely. "By the way, is
that the best kind to hunt, or do you recommend the ones without
shells?"

"Oh no! We never hunt the ones without shells," Bruno said, with a
little shudder at the thought of it. "They're always so c'oss about