ured the Gardens looking for him,
and how skilful I became at picking him out far away among the trees,
though other mothers imitated the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's
indignation. I also cut Irene's wings (so to speak) by taking her to a
dentist.

And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as
receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want
at the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets,
without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching
home--a tin-soldier, or a pistol--when I put it on my mantle-shelf
and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I had been
over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some time David
up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I favour other
dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, looking
very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was David's
first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him.

Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace
at the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of
which David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the
Round Pond to persons coming from the north.

You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty.
When next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at
first she bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she
burst into tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had
I lifted my hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now
learned to my surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our
tiffs, but I have never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene.
I also made her promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff,
saying I was taking my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I
tell you, Irene has one of the prettiest and most touching little bows
imaginable; it is half to the side (if I may so express myself), which
has always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by
watching Mary.

I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I
look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that
was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms,
and even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that
until he was three years old I sought merely t