|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 12
"Oh, not _to sit down_!" Bruno hastily replied. "But to help, you know.
You'd like that, wouldn't you? To hand about plates, and so on."
"Well, but that's not so nice as sitting at the table, is it?"
"Of course it isn't," Bruno said, in a tone as if he rather pitied my
ignorance; "but if you're not even Sir Anything, you can't expect to be
allowed to sit at the table, you know."
I said, as meekly as I could, that I didn't expect it, but it was the
only way of going to a dinner-party that I really enjoyed. And Bruno
tossed his head, and said, in a rather offended tone, that I might do
as I pleased--there were many he knew that would give their ears to go.
"Have you ever been yourself, Bruno?"
"They invited me once last year," Bruno said, very gravely. "It was to
wash up the soup-plates--no, the cheese-plates I mean--that was g'and
enough. But the g'andest thing of all was, _I_ fetched the Duke of
Dandelion a glass of cider!"
"That _was_ grand!" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.
"Wasn't it!" said Bruno, very earnestly. "You know it isn't every one
that's had such an honor as _that_!"
This set me thinking of the various queer things we call "an honor" in
this world, which, after all, haven't a bit more honor in them than
what the dear little Bruno enjoyed (by the way, I hope you're beginning
to like him a little, naughty as he was?) when he took the Duke of
Dandelion a glass of cider.
I don't know how long I might have dreamed on in this way if Bruno
hadn't suddenly roused me.
"Oh, come here quick!" he cried, in a state of the wildest excitement.
"Catch hold of his other horn! I can't hold him more than a minute!"
He was struggling desperately with a great snail, clinging to one of
its horns, and nearly breaking his poor little back in his efforts to
drag it over a blade of grass.
I saw we should have no more gardening if I let this sort of thing go
on, so I quietly took the snail away, and put it on a bank where he
couldn't reach it. "We'll hunt it afterward, Bruno," I said, "if you
really want to catch it. But what's the use of it when you've got it?"
"What's the use of a fox when you've got it?" said Bruno. "I know you
big things hunt foxes."
I tried to think of some good reason why "big things" should hunt
foxes, and he shouldn't hunt snails, but none came into my head: so I
said at last, "Well, I suppose one's as good as the other. I'll go
snail-hunting myself, some day."
"I should think you wouldn't be so silly," said Bruno, "as to go
snail-hunting all by yourself. Why, you'd never get the snail along, if
you hadn't somebody to hold on to his other horn!"
"Of course I sha'n't go alone," I said, quite gravely. "By the way, is
that the best kind to hunt, or do you recommend the ones without
shells?"
"Oh no! We never hunt the ones without shells," Bruno said, with a
little shudder at the thought of it. "They're always so c'oss about it;
and then, if you tumble over them, they're ever so sticky!"
By this time we had nearly finished the garden. I had fetched some
violets, and Bruno was just helping me to put in the last, when he
suddenly stopped and said, "I'm tired."
"Rest, then," I said; "I can go on without you."
Bruno needed no second invitation: he at once began arranging the mouse
as a kind of sofa. "And I'll sing you a little song," he said as he
rolled it about.
"Do," said I: "there's nothing I should like better."
"Which song will you choose?" Bruno said, as he dragged the mouse into
a place where he could get a good view of me. "'Ting, ting, ting,' is
the nicest."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|