Now then, perk up, my lad." Poor Ned's eyes opened at this, and he stared wildly at the man, then, as if utterly bewildered, at Cook, and lastly at Tizzy, who clung sobbing to him, where he had been laid on the grass, streaming with water.
"Tiz!" he cried faintly.
"Teddy! Teddy!" she wailed.

"Oh, don't die! What would poor Mamma do ?" "Die ?" he said confusedly.

"Why--what?
Here," he cried, as recollection came back with a rush, "oh, Tizzy, don't say you've lost the kite!" "Lost the kite!" cried Cook, furiously now.

"Oh, you wicked, wicked boy! What will your Mar say ?" "As she was precious glad I was a-comin' by," said the man, grinning.
"There: don't scold the youngster, missus.

It was all an accident, wasn't it, squire?
But, I say, next time you climb a tree don't you trust them poplars, for they're as brittle as sere-wood.