his pockets, his feet shuffling to and
fro, and on his face a dark, angry cloud.

"Come, Roddy, tell mother the trouble. Is it anything to do with
school? Is there a punishment preparation to be done this morning?"

"No; there isn't!" Roddy roused himself at such a suspicion. "Why,
mother, I told you I was moved up yesterday; don't you remember? But
I'll come inside and tell you all about it."

"No! Tell me from outside all about it."

"Well, then, mother, I don't _want_ to take the children to the meads.
I want to amuse myself. And it's not fair. Saturday's a holiday, and
it's my right to have it!" sullenly said Roddy.

"Your right! Perhaps so, dear! But sometimes it is our privilege to
yield our rights!" quietly said mother, taking her eyes for a second
off the yellowing cream to glance at the boy's gloomy face. "Who told
you to take the children to the meads--father?" she asked.

"Yes, it was. He said I was to take them to the cowslip meads, and not
to stir from there until he came back from market."

"And what is it you want to do instead?"

"I want to go with my net down to Butterfly Corner. There will be
heaps of butterflies out this sunny day. And the other boys at school
are all collecting: they have more than I have, all of them. I have
only a tortoiseshell and a brimstone. O, it's a regular shame of
father!"

"Hush, dear, hush! Nothing that your kind, good father says or does
can be called a shame. But I believe I can guess why he gave those
orders. He knew that this is an over-busy day for me, and also that I
have one of my bad headaches." Certainly mother's face gleamed out
white from the dairy shadows. "And as this is market-day at Hamley
Town he and old Michael would be away until dinner-time. So, you see,
sonny, he has left _you_ in charge. You are in father's place this
morning to guard the farm and us all, particularly the tinies. Don't
you see what an honour it is to be trusted thus?"

Something stirred in Roddy's heart at his mother's words. The best
part of him suddenly came uppermost. He walked quietly away, followed
by Fuzzy sniffing at his heels. And, somehow, the boy felt an inch
taller as he looked round the farm. After all, what were the
butterflies compared with the tinies left in his charge? "Hip, hip,
hooray!" Roddy straightened himself and cheered. He had won a
victory--over himself.

[Illustration:]

"Hi, Nettie! Hi, Dumps! Come along! And where's Baby? We're going to
the