a print hood, and drawn by a drowsy-looking grey horse at the
end of a long tow-rope, bearing a whistling boy seated sidewise on his
back and a dishcover-like pail hanging from his collar.

"Oh, I say, don't cry, Tizzy," protested Ned, at last, as he felt the
hot tears trickling inside his white collar.

"I can't help it, Teddy," she sobbed. "I did so want to see the kite
fly!"

"Never mind, pussy," said her brother; "I'll get the butterfly-net."

"No, no," she sobbed; "please don't."

"The rod and line, then, and you shall fish. I'll put on the worms."

"No, no, I don't want to," she said, with more tears. "Put me down,
please; you do joggle me so. You'll be going back to school soon, and,
now the grass is cut, I did so wa-wa-want to see the kite fly!"

"So did I," said the boy ruefully. "But don't cry, Tiz dear. Tell me
what to do. It makes me so miserable to see you cry."

"Does it, Teddy?" she said, looking up wistfully in her brother's face,
and then kissing him. "There, then: I won't cry any more."

She had hardly spoken when the sunshine returned to her pretty little
face, for, though she did not know it, that sorrowful countenance had
quite softened Cook's heart, and she stood in the kitchen doorway,
calling the young people and waving a steaming white basin, which she
set down on the window-sill with a bang.

"Here's your paste, Master Ned," she shouted; and then, muttering to
herself something about being such a "soft," she disappeared.

Five minutes later the young folk were in the play-room and Ned was
covering the framework of his simply-made kite with white paper, Tizzy
helping and getting her little fingers pasty the while. Then a loop was
made on the centre lath; the wet kite was found to balance well; wings
were made, and a long string with a marble tied in the thumb of a glove
attached to the end for a tail; the ball of new string taken off the top
of the drawers, and the happy couple went off in high glee to fly the
kite.

"It's half-dry already," said Ned. "Paste soon dries in hot weather."

"Do let me carry the string, Teddy," cried Tiz; and the next minute she
was stepping along with it proudly, while Ned, with his arm through the
loop and the kite on his back, looked something like a Knight Crusader
with a white shield.

The grasshoppers and butterflies scattered; the paper dried rapidly in
the hot sun, as the kite lay on the grass while the string was fastened,
Tizzy hav