st into tears.

Then his mother could stay away no longer.

"What is the matter, my boy?" she said; anxious, baby though he was, not
to make him feel ashamed of his innocent prayers by finding that she had
overheard what he had said when he thought himself alone.

"What is my Ted crying about?"

The tears, which had stopped for an instant, came back again.

"Muzzer," he said, "'Dod _won't_ 'peak to Ted. Ted p'ayed and p'ayed,
and Ted was kite kite kiet, but 'Dod didn't 'amswer.' Is 'Dod a'leep,
muzzer?"

"No, my boy, but what was it that Ted wanted so much?"

"Ted wanted towslips for muzzer, but 'Dod _won't_ amswer," he repeated
piteously.

A shower of kisses was mother's answer, and gently and patiently she
tried to make him understand the _seeming_ silence which had caused his
innocent tears. And, as was Ted's "way," he listened and believed. But
"some day," he said to his mother, "some day," would she not take him to
"a countly where towslips _did_ grow?"

CHAPTER II.

IN THE GARDEN.

"Heigh ho! daisies and buttercups,
Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow."
SONGS OF SEVEN.

Down below the garden of Ted's pretty home flowed, or danced rather,
with a constant merry babble, a tiny stream. A busy, fussy stream it
was, on its way to the beautiful little river that, in its turn, came
rushing down through a mountain-gorge to the sea. I must tell you about
this mountain-gorge some time, or, if you like, we shall visit it with
Ted and his faithful companion, whom you have not yet heard about--his
father's great big Scotch collie dog, Cheviott.

You don't know what a dear dog he was, so brave, but so gentle and
considerate. He came of a brave and patient race, for you know "collies"
are the famous Scotch sheep-dogs, who to their shepherd masters are more
useful than any _two_-legged servant could be. And though I am not sure
that "Chevie" himself had ever had to do with "the keeping of sheep,"
like gentle Abel of old, yet, no doubt, as a baby doggie in his northern
home, he must have heard a good deal about it--no doubt, if his tongue
had had the power of speaking, he could have told his little master some
strange stories of adventures and narrow escapes which had happened to
members of his family. For up in the Border mountains where he was born,
the storms sometimes come on so suddenly that shepherd and flock are all
but lost, and but for their faith