'Yes—and how he trampled on our gardens, and broke down my rose-bush and all my pinks. I don't think I shall have room for all the things there are to tell mamma about him. There never was such a naughty boy! When he gets one of his tempers he does not seem to know what he is doing.'

And Ellen leaned down on the table, and went on writing.

Just then the door opened, and Bob himself came in. He was a fat, rosy little boy, and he did not look very fierce now; indeed, he looked quite meek and gentle. He came up to his sisters, and said, 'Bob is sorry; he won't spoil dolls and gardens again.'

'Ah! it is too late now, Bob,' said Ellen; 'you have spoiled everything; and I am telling mamma all about it in my letter, so she won't bring you the baker's cart and the whip that you wanted.'

You are a very naughty boy, Bob,' said Jessy, 'and I am not going to play with you again.'

Bob went very red.

'Take care; he's going into a temper again,' said Ellen, as Bob made a snatch at the letter she was writing. She held it out of his reach, and then he gave a loud scream and began crying with all his might.

'I'll go to nurse!' he cried, rushing out of the room, shouting as loud as he could.

'He is the worst boy that ever lived!' said Jessy.

'Now we'll get on with the letter,' said Ellen.

But just then they heard another scream—which was not Bob—and then a bumping noise on the stairs.

'He's fallen down-stairs. Perhaps he's killed,' said Jessy, turning pale. And the two girls ran to see what was the matter.

Yes, Bob, in his passion, did not see where he was going, and he slipped, and fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom.

'Oh, nurse, is he much hurt?' cried Ellen, for nurse and the rest of the servants were there.

It was a long time before Bob came to himself.

The doctor was sent for, and he found that Bob's arm was broken; and poor Bob had to suffer a great deal of pain in having it set.

'Poor Bob!' said Ellen to Jessy; 'we won't send our letter to mamma.'

'No,' said Jessy; 'it will be a great trouble to mamma to find poor Bob so ill. We will not give her any more trouble.' And she tore up the letter.

But another letter was written to mamma to tell her what had happened, and she came at once.

Bob was lying quite still, muttering something to himself, but only loud enough for Ellen and Jessy to hear the word 'Naughty, naughty.'

'But we did not think you would fall down-stairs, Bob,' said Jessy.

Bob looked up at Jessy, and said, 'No, no; naughty Bob, not naughty Jessy.'

tailpiece to Ellen's Letter

headpiece to That Dear Duck

That Dear Duck.

es,' said Farmer Jones, looking down at them over the top bar of the gate, 'you may come and play in the field for a bit; only mind, there is to be no chasing the sheep or hens, or throwing stones at the ducks, or it will be the last time you children get leave to come into my fields.'

'We won't do any mischief, sir,' said Peggy earnestly, as she tried to make the bundle she carried sit upright, and look something like a baby, instead of cuddling up like a shapeless lump on her shoulder.

'Very well, then, in you go.'

The farmer held the gate open till the five children and two babies had filed sedately through; then he dropped the bar into the socket, and tramped away down the dusty lane.