Ferdy and I quarrel sometimes, but not always. We don't like
quarrelling, and yet somehow we can't help it; and Ferdy _will_ want
everything his own way because he is the elder, and that isn't fair. I
ought to have my way sometimes, I think.
Mother gave us a boat not long ago--a beautiful boat, with a sail and a
dingy and everything complete, and it was to be between us. So we took
off our shoes and stockings and went down by the quay to sail our boat.
It sailed as nicely as any boat could, and we were so pleased with it,
but in spite of that we began to quarrel. You see, Ferdy wanted to call
the boat the "Amy," after Amy Stevens, a little girl we have met on the
beach this summer. Ferdy thinks her as pretty as a fairy, but I don't,
though she's very jolly sometimes, and can play at anything. Well, Ferdy
_would_ have the boat called "Amy," and I wanted it to be "Isabel,"
after mother, because she gave us the boat, and we love her better than
any one else in the world. And then we quarrelled. I suppose we made a
noise--quarrelling people generally do--for suddenly we found that Amy
was watching and listening, and then Ferdy turned very red and did not
say anything for some minutes.
"Look here, Alf," he said at last; "I'll give you my share of the boat,
and then you shall call it what you like."
"Oh, no!" I said, "you must have half--and so you shall, for if you give
me your share I'll give you mine."
So we settled it very nicely in that way, and called the boat "Isabel
Amy;" and all the afternoon Amy Stevens played that she was the captain
and we were the sailors.
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"BLIND TOMMY."
What a funny name for a dog! But I will tell you how he happened to get
it. Blind Charlie was his master, and he was the happiest old man I ever
knew.
Charlie used to sit reading the blind people's Bible, beside a
sheltering wall, at the Royal Academy in Edinburgh, Blind Tommy, with
his little pitcher in his mouth, begging for pennies. I got to know them
so well that, every time I passed, Charlie allowed the dog to put his
pitcher down, while I fed him with a biscuit or bun. I made him a nice
warm coat, too, for the cold days.
One day I missed them both, and I went at once to Charlie's lodgings.
Here I found that on his way home one dark night, Charlie had been
knocked down by a carriage, and had his leg broken. He had been carried
home, and the neighbors had been very kind and had got him a doctor.
"But, oh, ma'am," he said, "there's no nurse like Tommy! He sits close
beside me, and seems to know everything I want. If I am thirsty, I say,
'Tommy, some water,' and off he goes with his little pitcher to the
bucket, fills it, and carries it so carefully back to me."
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