clawy and toothy and fierce, and though the
more-dead-than-alive feeling had gone by next day, it was not a pleasant
experience. But even that was better than the time when they laughed at
a very bad construe of his--the form was in Caesar--and he told them how
he had once translated the inscription on an Egyptian Pyramid. He had no
peace for weeks after that, because he had forgotten to say how long it
took him. Every time he was alone he was wafted away to Egypt and set
down at that Pyramid. But he could not find the inscription, and if he
had found it he could not have translated it. So, in self-defence, he
spent most of his waking-time with Ethel. But every night the Pyramid
had its own way, and it was not till he had cut an inscription himself
on the Pyramid with the broken blade of his pocket-knife, and translated
it into English, that he was allowed any rest at all. The inscription
was _Ich bin eine Gans_, and you can translate it for yourself.

But that did him good in one way; it made him fonder of Ethel. Being so
much with her, he began to see what a jolly little girl she really was.
When she had measles--Hildebrand had had them, or it, last Christmas, so
he was allowed to see his sister--he was very sorry, and really wished
to do something for her. Mr. Pilkings brought her some hothouse grapes
one day, and she liked them so much that they were very soon gone. Then
Hildebrand, who had been very careful since the Pyramid occasion to say
nothing but the truth, said:

'Ethel, some grapes and pineapples came for you yesterday.'

Ethel knew it wasn't true, but she liked the idea, and said:

'Anything else?'

'Oh yes!' said her brother--'a wax doll and a china tea-set with pink
roses on it, and books and games,' and he went on to name everything he
thought she would like.

And, of course, next day the things came in a great packing-case. No one
ever knew who sent them, but Mr. and Mrs. Pilkings thought it was
Ethel's godfather in India. And, curiously enough, these things did not
vanish away, but were eaten and enjoyed and played with as long as they
lasted. Ethel has one of the dolls still, though now she is quite grown
up.

Now Hildebrand began to feel sorry to see how ill and worried his mother
looked; she was tired out with nursing Ethel, so he said to Sarah:

'Mother was quite well yesterday.'

Sarah answered:

'Much you know about it; your poor ma's wore to a shadow.'

[Illustration: 'The alligato