ay, and we had a boiled leg of mutton and an
apple pudding, but I shall not say another time what we had for dinner,
because I shall have plenty of other things to say."

"_Friday._ Gardener has been mending the palings; he gave me five nails;
they were very good ones, such as I like. He said if any boy that he
knew was to pull nails out of his wall trees when _he'd_ done them, he
should certainly tell their papa of them. Aunt Fanny came and took away
Sophy to spend a fortnight. Uncle Tom came too; he said I was a fine
boy, and gave me a shilling."

"_Saturday._ My half-holiday. Hurrah! I went and bought two hoop-sticks
for me and Hatty; they cost fourpence each."

"_Sunday._ On Sunday I went to church."

"_Monday._ To-day I had a cold, and after school I was just going to
bowl my hoop when Orris said to mamma it rained, and ma said she
couldn't think of my going out in the rain, and so I couldn't go. After
that Orris called me to come into her room, and gave me a fourpenny
piece and two pictures, so now I've got eightpence. Orris is very kind,
but sometimes she thinks she ought to command, because she is the
eldest."

"_Tuesday._ I shall not write my diary every day, unless I like."

"_Wednesday._ I dined late with papa and mamma and the elder ones: it
rained. If the others won't tell me what to say, of course I don't
know."

"_Friday._ I went to the shop and bought some tin _tax_. I don't like
writing diaries particularly. It will be a good thing to leave off till
the holidays."

I had only got so far when the children ran in with a beautiful
water-lily. They had scarcely deposited it in my hand when they both
exclaimed in a breath:

"And what are we to do now?"

"You may bring me a glass of water to put it in."

This was soon done, and then the question was repeated. I saw there was
but one chance of quiet, so I resolved to make a virtue of necessity,
and say that if they would each immediately begin some ordinary
occupation, I would tell them a story. What child was ever proof against
a story?

"But we are to choose what it shall be about?" said one of them.

"Why?"

"Oh, never mind why. Shall we tell her, Harriet? Well, it's because you
tell cheating stories: you say, 'I'll tell you a story about a girl, or
a cottage, or a thimble, or anything you like,' and it really is
something about us."

"You may choose, then."

"Then it shall be about the lily we got for you."

"Give me ten minutes to