for us, and I shall learn it--I mean, if I
can--in a minute."

The good news that Farmer Price was to collect the rents and that
Attorney Case was to leave the parish in a month soon spread over the
village. Many came out of their houses to have the pleasure of hearing
the joyful tidings from Susan herself. The crowd on the play-green
grew bigger every minute.

"Yes," cried Philip, "I tell you it's quite true, every word of it.
Susan's too modest to say it herself, but I tell you all, that Sir
Arthur has given us this play-green just because she is so good."

LIMBY LUMPY

I

LIMBY LUMPY was the only son of his mother. His father was called the
"Pavior's Assistant," for he was so large and heavy that, when he used
to walk through the streets, the men who were ramming the stones down
with a large wooden rammer would say, "Please to walk over these
stones, sir," and then the men would get a rest.

Limby was born on April 1--I do not know how long ago; but before he
came into the world such preparations were made! There was a beautiful
cradle, and a bunch of coral with bells on it, and lots of little
caps, and a fine satin hat, and tops and bottoms for pap, and two
nurses to take care of him. He was, too, to have a little chaise, when
he grew big enough; after that, he was to have a donkey, and then a
pony. In short, he was to have the moon for a plaything, if it could
be got; and, as to the stars, he would have had them, if they had not
been too high to reach.

Limby made a rare to-do when he was a little baby. But he never was a
_little_ baby--he was always a big baby; nay, he was a big baby till
the day of his death.

"Baby Big," his mother used to call him; he was "a noble baby," said
his aunt; he was "a sweet baby," said old Mrs. Tomkins, the nurse; he
was "a dear baby," said his papa--and so he was, for he _cost_ a good
deal. He was "a darling baby," said his aunt, by the mother's side;
"there never was such a fine child," said everybody, before the
parents; when they were at another place they called him, "a great,
ugly fat child."

Limby was almost as broad as he was long. He had what some people
called an open countenance--that is, one as broad as a full moon. He
had what his mother called beautiful auburn locks, but what other
people said were carroty--not before the mother, of course.

Limby had a flattish nose and a widish mouth, and his eyes were a
little out of the right line. Poor little