is it, dear?"
over and over again. This phrase proceeded from Tom, who kept on
repeating it, parrot-fashion--an exact imitation, but with no idea of
its meaning. I had heard the baby whimpering a little time before, and
Tom had remarked that these four words produced the happiest effect in
restoring good-humor; so he learned them, accent and all, on the spot,
and used them as a spell or charm on the next opportunity. I think
even the poor baby was puzzled. But one cannot feel sure of what
Tom will do next. A few evenings ago I trusted him to wheel the
perambulator about the garden-paths, but, becoming anxious in a very
few minutes to know what he was about, I went to look for him. I found
him grinning in high glee, watching the baby's efforts at cutting his
teeth on a live young bird. Master Tom had spied a nest, climbed the
tree, and brought down the poor little bird, which he presented to
the child, who instantly put it into his mouth. When I arrived on the
scene Baby's mouth was full of feathers, over which he was making a
very disgusted face, and the unhappy bird was nearly dead of fright
and squeezing, whilst Tom was in such convulsions of laughter that
I nearly boxed his ears. He showed me by signs how Baby insisted on
sucking the bird's head, and conveyed his intense amusement at the
idea. I made Master Tom climb the tree instantly and put the poor
little half-dead creature back into its nest, and sent for Charlie to
explain to him he should have no sugar--the only punishment Tom cares
about--for two days. I often think, however, that I must try and
find another penalty, for when Tom's allowance of sugar is stopped he
"requisitions" that of every one else, and so gets rather more
than usual. He is immensely proud of the brass chin-strap of an old
artillery bushy which has been given to him. He used to wear it across
his forehead in the favorite Kafir fashion, but as the baby always
made it his first business to pull this shining strap down over Tom's
eyes, and eventually over Tom's mouth, it has been transferred to his
neck.

These Kafir-lads make excellent nurse-boys generally, and English
children are very fond of them. Nurse-girls are rare, as the Kafir
women begin their lives of toil so early that they are never very
handy or gentle in a house, and boys are easier to train as servants.
I heard to-day, however, of an excellent Kafir nurse-maid who was
the daughter of a chief, and whose only drawback was the