h it, assuring my mother that sweet things were necessary for
children, a sentiment with which I cordially agreed then, whatever
opinions my elders might hold. There were a great many currants in my
slice of pudding, and it struck me how much nicer they would taste if
I could eat them all together as a titbit at the last; so I picked
them carefully out one by one, and put them to the side of my plate. I
suppose it must have taken me rather a long time, or perhaps the
others had smaller helpings; at any rate they had finished first, and
all laid down their spoons and forks except myself. I gulped my last
piece of pudding in a hurry, and was just going to enjoy my saved-up
fruit, when the old lady, who had been watching me, said: "Poor boy!
Isn't he fond of currants? Leave them, my dear; I would never force a
child to eat what it doesn't like," adding a direction to the servant
to take my plate away. I had had tremendous warnings before I came
about behaving myself properly, and also I was much too shy to
protest, so I was obliged to watch my cherished currants being whisked
from the table before I had been able to taste a single one of them.
If I had ever been inclined to be miserly, I think this incident would
have cured me of hoarding up riches."

"What a shame! Didn't you get anything instead?" asked Artie.

"Not at dinner, but afterwards the old lady, who was a very kind soul,
took me into her kitchen garden, and told me to eat as many ripe
gooseberries as I liked. There were various sorts, big red ones, hairy
yellow ones, and smooth green ones, and I'm sure I ate enough to make
up amply for what I missed at pudding time. As far as I recollect I
never stopped picking the whole afternoon. Small boys can accommodate
a great deal."

"I don't think gooseberries do one any harm," said Artie. "We eat
simply loads. We each sit down beside a bush, and try who can make the
biggest pile of skins. Mother says the blackbirds would take them if
we didn't."

"I'm glad she doesn't make a fuss about it, as some people do," said
Linda. "I was so angry last summer. A lady came one afternoon to see
us, and brought a horrid little girl with her called Mona. Mother told
me to take this child into the kitchen garden and give her some fruit,
so I marched her off, and, just as we were leaving the drawing-room,
her mother called out: "You may have eight strawberries and twelve
gooseberries, darling, but no more." She was very stupid, and