Ted was soaring too far above poor David's head already for him to know what to answer. What could he say but "No indeed, Master Ted," again? He had never heard tell of any one that could fly except the angels. For David was fond of going to church, or chapel rather, and though he could not read Ted's Bible, he could read his own very well.
"Angels," said Ted. The word started his busy fancy off in a fresh direction. He lay looking up still, watching now the lovely little feathery clouds that began to rise as the sun declined, and fancying they were angels with wings softly floating hither and thither in the balmy air. He watched one little group, which seemed to him like three angels with their arms twined together, so long, that at last his eyes grew rather tired of watching and their little white blinds closed over them softly. Little Ted had fallen asleep.
"So, so; dear me, he tired," said old David, as, surprised at the unusual silence, he turned to see what Ted was about. "Bless him, he tired very bad with his cliver talk and the pain; ay – but, indeed, he not one to make fuss – no. He a brave little gentleman, Master Ted – ay, indeed," and the kind old man lifted the boy's head so that he should lie more comfortably, and turned his wheelbarrow up on one side to shade him from the sun.
Ted smiled in his sleep as David looked at him. Shall I tell you what made him smile? In his sleep he had got his wish. He dreamt that he was flying. This was the dream that came to him.
He fancied he was running down the garden path with Chevie, when all at once Chevie seemed to disappear, and where he had been there stood a pretty snow-white lamb. With an eager cry Ted darted forward to catch it, and laid his hand on its soft woolly coat, when – it was no lamb but a little cloud he was trying to grasp. And wonderful to say, the little cloud seemed to float towards him and settle itself on his shoulders, and then all of himself Ted seemed to find out that it had turned into wings!
"Ted can fly, Ted can fly!" he cried with delight, or thought he cried. In reality it was just then that David lifted his head, and feeling himself moving, Ted fancied it was the wings lifting him upward, and gave the pleased smile which David noticed. Fly! I should think so. He mounted and mounted, higher and higher, the white wings waving him upwards in the most wonderful way, till at last he found himself right up in the blue sky where he had so wished to be. And ever so many – lots and lots of other little white things were floating or flying about, and, looking closely at them, Ted saw that they were not little clouds as they seemed at first, but wings – all pairs of beautiful white wings, and dear little faces were peeping out from between them. They were all little children like himself.
"Come and play, Ted, come and play. Ted, Ted, Ted!" they cried so loud, that Ted opened his eyes – his real waking eyes, not his dream ones – sharply, and there he was, lying on the soft grass heap, not up in the sky among the cloud-children at all!
At first he was rather disappointed. But as he was thinking to himself whether it was worth while to try to go to sleep again and go on with his dream, he heard himself called as before, "Ted, Ted, Ted."
And looking up he forgot all about everything else when he saw, running down the sloping banks as fast as his legs would carry him, Percy, his dear Percy!
Ted jumped up – even his wounded leg couldn't keep him still now.
"Was it thoo calling me, Percy?" he said. "I was d'eaming, do thoo know —such a funny d'eam? But I'm so glad thoo's come back, Percy. Oh, Ted is so glad."
Then all the day's adventures had to be related – the accident with the scissors and the drive in the wheelbarrow, and the funny dream. And in his turn Percy had to tell of all he had seen and done and heard – the shops he had been at in the little town, and what he had had for luncheon and – and – the numberless trifles that make up the interest of a child's day.
"Does thoo think there's any shop where we could get wings, Percy?" asked Ted. He had the vaguest ideas as to what "shops" were, but Percy had been telling him of the beautiful little boats he had seen at a toy-shop in the market-place, "boats with white sails and all rigged just like real ones;" and if boats with white sails were to be got, why not white wings?
"Wings!" exclaimed Percy. "What sort of wings do you mean, Teddy?"
"Wings for little boys," Ted explained. "Like what I was d'eaming about. It would be so nice to fly, Percy."
"Beautiful, wouldn't it?" agreed Percy. "But nobody can fly, Ted. Nobody could make wings that would be any use for people. People can't fly."
"But little boys, Percy," persisted Ted. "Little boys isn't so very much bigger than birds. Oh, you don't know how lovely it feels to fly. Percy, do let us try to make some wings."
But Percy's greater experience was less hopeful.
"I'm afraid it would be no use," he said. "People have often tried. I've heard stories of it. They only tumbled down."
"Did they hurt themselves?" asked Ted.
"I expect so," Percy replied.
Just then David, who was passing by, stopped to tell the boys that some one was calling them in from the house.
"Is it your papa, Master Ted; yes, I think," he said.
Ted's leg was feeling less stiff and painful now. He could walk almost as well as usual. When they got to the house-door his father was waiting for him. He had heard of Ted's misfortune, and there was rather a comical smile on his face as he stooped to kiss his little boy.
"I want you to come in to see Mr. Brand," he said. "He says he hasn't seen you for a long time, little Ted."
Ted raised his blue eyes to his father's face with a rather puzzled expression.
"Whom's Mr. Brand?" he asked.
"Why, don't you remember him, Teddy?" said Percy. "That great big gentleman – so awfully tall."
Ted did not reply, but he seemed much impressed.
"Is him a diant?" he asked, gravely.
"Very nearly, I should say," said Percy, laughing, and then, as he had already seen Mr. Brand, who had met Ted's father on his way back from A – , Percy ran off in another direction, and Ted followed his father into the drawing-room.
Mr. Brand was sitting talking to Ted's mother, but just as the door opened, he rose from his seat and came forward.
"I was just going to ask you if – ah! here's your little boy," he said to Ted's father. Then, sitting down again, he drew Ted between his knees and looked kindly at the small innocent face. He was very fond of children, but he did not know much about them, and Ted, looking and feeling rather overawed, stood more silently than usual, staring seriously at the visitor.
He was very tall and very big. Whether he quite came up to Ted's idea of a "diant" I cannot tell. But queer fancies began to chase each other round the boy's brain. There had been a good deal to excite and upset the little fellow – at no time a strong child – that day, and his dream when lying asleep on the grass had added to it all. And now, as he stood looking up at big Mr. Brand, a strange confusion of ideas filled his mind – of giants tall enough to reach the sky, to catch and bring down some of the cloud-wings Ted wished so for, interspersed with wondering if it was "fissy oil" that had made this big man so very big. If he, Ted, were to take a great, great lot of fissy oil, would he grow as big and strong? Would he be able to cut the grass like David perhaps, to run faster than Percy – to – to I don't know what – for at this moment Mr. Brand's voice brought him back from his fancies.
"What an absent-minded little fellow he is," Mr. Brand was saying, for he had been speaking to Ted two or three times without the child's paying any attention.
"Not generally," said Ted's mother. "He is usually very wide-awake to all that is going on. What are you thinking of, Ted, dear?"
"Yes," said Mr. Brand. "Tell us what you've got in your head. Are you thinking that I'm a very tiny little man – the tiniest little man you ever saw?"
"No," said Ted solemnly, without the least smile,