he ferret's cage."

"Oh! do stop," said Fred, splashing his face about in the cold water,
and hurrying to get finished; "do stop for me, there's a good fellow."

Five minutes after the three lads were together upon the lawn, rolling a
prickly, spiky hedgehog over and over in the vain hope of getting him to
open out and show his black, bright little eyes, and sharp piggy like
snout; all which time old Sam was busy at work, making his keen bright
scythe shave off the little yellow-eyed daisies that seemed sprinkled
all over the green turf that was so soft and elastic to the feet.

"Chinkle chingle, chinkle chingle," rang out the scythe, as he held it
over his shoulder, and sharpened it with his gritty rubber, and then
again shave, shave, shave, over the velvet grass, till long rows of the
little strands lay across the lawn.

A comical old fellow was Sam, and he used to say that no one loved the
young masters so well as he did; but somehow or another Sam never used
to see them out in the garden without finding something to grumble
about. His complaints were generally without foundation; but Sam used
to think he had cause to complain; and, being rather an old man, he used
to consider he had a right so to do.

"Now then, Master Harry, you're at it again! What's the use of my
trying to keep the garden nice if you will keep racing about over it
like that? I wish you'd keep indoors, I do."

"We ain't going to, though, are we, Phil?" said Harry, laughing. "Old
Sam would be sure to fetch us out again if we did; wouldn't you, Sam?"

Old Sam grinned, and shook his head, and just then eight o'clock struck
by the village church, which was about a mile off, so Sam wiped his
scythe, and, shouldering it, walked off to his breakfast, just as a
cheery cry of--"Now, boys," came from out of the verandah, where Mr and
Mrs Inglis were standing, watching the lads upon the lawn.

The pretty breakfast-room looked so bright and cheerful; there was such
an odorous bunch of dew-wet roses in a vase; such sweet scents, too,
came through the open window, and such country farm-house bounty spread
upon the breakfast-table, that Fred told his cousins after the meal that
he had never enjoyed anything before half so well in his life.

"Now, boys, what are you going to do to-day?" said Mr Inglis.

"Going fishing, Papa, in Trencher Pond," said Harry.

"Why, there's nothing there worth catching," said Mr Inglis.

"Oh _yes_, Papa!" said Phil.