Ted felt, for him, a very little sad as he trotted out into the garden. He had hoped for such a nice merry day with Percy. But low spirits never troubled him long. Off he set with Cheviott for the race down to the little bridge, always the first bit of Ted's programme, and careful Chevie as usual pulled up in plenty of time to avoid any risk of toppling his master into the brook. Arrived on the bridge, Ted stood still and "jigged" a little as usual. Then he peered down at the shiny water with the bright brown pebbles sparkling up through it, and wondered what it would feel like to be a little fish.
"Little fisses," he said to himself, "always has each other to play with. They don't go to school, and they hasn't no bidness, nor no cooks that they must be such a long time ordering the dinners with, nor – nor beds to make and stockings to mend. I wish nurse would 'tum out this morning. Ted doesn't like being all alone. Ted would like somebody littler to play with, 'cos then they wouldn't go to school or out d'ives with papa."
But just as he was thinking this, he caught sight of some one coming across the garden, and his ideas took another turn at once.
"David, old David," he cried, "is thoo going to cut the grass? Do let me come and help thoo, David."
And he ran back across the bridge again and made his way to David as fast as he could.
"Good morning, Master Ted," said the gardener. "Is it beautiful day, Master Ted, to be sure. Yes indeed."
"Ses," agreed Ted. "Good morning, old David. I'm going to stay out in the garden a long time, a tevible long time, 'cos it's such a sprendid lovely day. What is thoo going to do, David? Can't Ted help thoo?"
"I am going to cut the grass, Master Ted, but I not be very long – no; for it is only the middle that's be cut. All the rest stand for hay, to be sure. Ay, indeed."
"And when will the hay be cuttened?" inquired Ted.
"That's be as Master order, and not as Master can choose neither – no," said David. "He not able to make for the sun to shine; no, indeed; nor the rain neither, – no."
"'Dod sends rain and sun," said Ted, reverently, but yet looking at David with a sort of curiosity.
"Well, indeed you are right, Master Ted. Yes, yes. But I must get on with my work. God gives us work to do, too; ay, indeed; and them as not work never expect to eat, no, never; they not care for their victual anyhow if they not work for it. No."
Ted looked rather puzzled. "Ted eats," he said, – "not victuals – Ted doesn't know that meat – but bread and butter, and tea, and potatoes, and rice pudding, and meat, and sometimes 'tawberry jam and apple pie and – and – lots of things. And Ted likes zem very much, but him doesn't work."
"I not know for that, Master Ted," said David, "is it all kinds of work; ay, indeed; and I see you very near always busy – dear me, yes; working very good, Master Ted – ay."
"I like to be busy. I wish thoo'd let me help thoo to cut the grass," said Ted, eyeing David wistfully, as he started his big scythe, for the old gardener knew nothing of mowing machines, and would most likely have looked upon them with great contempt. But he stopped short a moment to look down at wee Ted, staring up at him and wishing to be in his place.
"No, indeed, Master Ted bach!" he said; "you soon have your cliver little legs and arms cut to pieces, if you use with my scythe, Master Ted – ay, indeed, d'rectly. It look easy, to be sure, but it not so easy even for a cliver man like you, Master Ted – no, indeed. But I tell you what you shall do. You shall help to make the grass to a heaps, and then I put it in a barrow and wheel it off. Ay, indeed; that be the best."
This proposal was very much to Ted's taste. Chevie and he, at a safe distance from David's scythe, thought it great fun to toss about the soft fine grass and imagine they were helping David tremendously. And after a while, when Chevie began to think he had had enough of it, and with a sort of condescending growl by way of explanation, stretched himself out in the sunshine for a little forenoon sleep, David left off cutting, and, with Ted's help of course, filled the barrow and wheeled it off to the corner where the grass was to lie to be out of the way. It was beginning to be rather hot, though still quite early, and Ted's face grew somewhat red with his exertions as he ran beside David.
"You better ride now; jump in, Master Ted," said the gardener, when his barrow was empty. So he lifted him in and wheeled him back to the lawn, which was quite after Ted's own heart.
"Isn't thoo going to cut with thoo's big scissors?" said Ted after a while.
"It is want oiling," said David, "and I forget to do them. I shall leave the borders till after dinner, – ay, sure," and he was going on with his scything when suddenly a voice was heard from the house calling him.
"David, David, you're wanted," said the voice, and then the cook made her appearance at the side of the house. "There's a note to take to – ."
They could not hear to where, but David had to go. He glanced round him, and, afraid of Ted's experiments, shouldered his scythe and walked off with it for fear of accidents.
"Are you going in, Master Ted?" he asked.
"Nurse is going to call me when she's ready," said Ted composedly, and knowing that the little fellow often played about by himself for a while, good David left him without any more anxiety. He had got his scythe safe, he never thought of the big pair of shears he had left lying in the grass!
Now these gigantic "scissors" as he called them had always had a wonderful attraction for Ted. He used to think how funny they would look beside the very tiny fine pair his mother worked with – the pretty scissors that lay in her little case lined with velvet and satin. Ted had not, in those days, heard of Gulliver and his strange adventures, but if he had, one might have imagined that to his fancy the two pairs of scissors were like a Brobdignag and a Lilliputian. And no sooner had David disappeared than unfortunately the great scissors caught his eyes.
"Zem's still sticked fast," he said to himself. "David says zem needs oil. Wiss I had some oil. P'raps the fissy oil to make Ted grow big would do. But the scissors is big enough. Ted wonders if the fissy oil would make zem bigger. Zem couldn't be much bigger."
Ted laughed a little to himself at the funny fancy. Then he sat and stared at the scissors. What did they remind him of? Ah yes, they were like the shears of "the great, long, red-legged scissor man," in the wonderful story of "Conrad Suck-a-thumb," in his German picture-book. Almost, as he gazed at them, it seemed to Ted that the figure of the scissors man would suddenly dart out from among the bushes and seize his property.
"But him wouldn't cut Ted's fumbs," thought the little man to himself, "'cos Ted never sucks zem. What a pity the scissors is sticked fast! Poor David can't cut with zem. P'raps Ted could oilen zem for poor David! Ted will go and get some fissy oil."
No sooner thought than done. Up jumped Ted, and was starting off to the house when a growl from Cheviott made him stop. The dog had just awakened, and seeing his little master setting off somewhere thought it his business to inquire where to and why. He lifted his head and gave it a sort of sleepy shake, then growled again, but gently of course.
"What did thoo say, Chevie?" said Ted. "Did thoo want to know where I was going? Stay here, Chevie. Ted will be back in a minute – him's on'y going to get some fissy oil to oilen poor David's scissors."
And off he set, though a third growl from Cheviott followed him as he ran.
"What does Chevie mean?" thought Ted. "P'raps him's thinking muzzer said Ted mustn't touch zem big scissors. But muzzer on'y meant Ted wasn't to cutten with zem. Muzzer would like Ted to help poor David," and, his conscience quite at rest, he trotted on contentedly.
CHAPTER III
WISHES AND FEARS
Children. "Here are the nails, and may we help?
Jessie. You shall if I should want help.
Children.