ness he loved them more and more. He was happy now. There
was no time to be unhappy in.

'I will keep it as it is till Helen comes. How she will _love_ it!' he
said.

The two cities were connected by a bridge which was a yard-stick he had
found in the servants' sewing-room and taken without hindrance, for by
this time all the servants were his friends. Susan had been the
first--that was all.

He had just laid his bridge in place, and put Mr. and Mrs. Noah in the
chief square to represent the inhabitants, and was standing rapt in
admiration of his work, when a hard hand on each of his shoulders made
him start and scream.

It was the nurse. She had come back a day sooner than any one expected
her. The brother had brought home a wife, and she and the nurse had not
liked each other; so she was very cross, and she took Philip by the
shoulders and shook him, a thing which had never happened to him before.

'You naughty, wicked boy!' she said, still shaking.

'But I haven't hurt anything--I'll put everything back,' he said,
trembling and very pale.

'You'll not touch any of it again,' said the nurse. 'I'll see to that. I
shall put everything away myself in the morning. Taking what doesn't
belong to you!'

'But you said I might take anything I liked,' said Philip, 'so if it's
wrong it's your fault.'

'You untruthful child!' cried the nurse, and hit him over the knuckles.
Now, no one had ever hit Philip before. He grew paler than ever, but he
did not cry, though his hands hurt rather badly. For she had snatched up
the yard-stick to hit him with, and it was hard and cornery.

'You are a coward,' said Philip, 'and it is you who are untruthful and
not me.'

'Hold your tongue,' said the nurse, and whirled him off to bed.

'You'll get no supper, so there!' she said, angrily tucking him up.

'I don't want any,' said Philip, 'and I have to forgive you before the
sun goes down.'

'Forgive, indeed!' said she, flouncing out.

'When you get sorry you'll know I've forgiven you,' Philip called after
her, which, of course, made her angrier than ever.

Whether Philip cried when he was alone is not our business. Susan, who
had watched the shaking and the hitting without daring to interfere,
crept up later with milk and sponge-cakes. She found him asleep, and she
says his eyelashes were wet.

When he awoke he thought at first that it was morning, the room was so
light. But presently he saw that it was not yellow sunlight bu