“Yes, that’ll do, if you like.  Would that be good enough for us to be, do you think?”

“We must ask the cuckoo,” said Griselda.  “But I’m sure it would be a good thing for you to learn to read.  You must ask your nurse to let you come here every afternoon that it’s fine, and I’ll ask my aunt.”

“I needn’t ask nurse,” said Phil composedly; “she’ll never know where I am, and I needn’t tell her.  She doesn’t care what I do, except tearing my clothes; and when she scolds me, I don’t care.”

“That isn’t good, Phil,” said Griselda gravely.  “You’ll never be as good as good if you speak like that.”

“What should I say, then?  Tell me,” said the little boy submissively.

“You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I’m much bigger than you, and I won’t let you tear your clothes.  And you should tell her you’re very sorry you’ve torn them to-day.”

“Very well,” said Phil, “I’ll say that.  But, oh see!” he exclaimed, darting off, “there’s a field mouse!  If only I could catch him!”

Of course he couldn’t catch him, nor could Griselda either; very ready, though, she was to do her best.  But it was great fun all the same, and the children laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves tremendously.  And when they were tired they sat down again and gathered flowers for nosegays, and Griselda was surprised to find how clever Phil was about it.  He was much quicker than she at spying out the prettiest blossoms, however hidden behind tree, or stone, or shrub.  And he told her of all the best places for flowers near by, and where grew the largest primroses and the sweetest violets, in a way that astonished her.

“You’re such a little boy,” she said; “how do you know so much about flowers?”

“I’ve had no one else to play with,” he said innocently.  “And then, you know, the fairies are so fond of them.”

When Griselda thought it was time to go home, she led little Phil down the wood-path, and through the door in the wall opening on to the lane.

“Now you can find your way home without scrambling through any more bushes, can’t you, Master Phil?” she said.

“Yes, thank you, and I’ll come again to that place to-morrow afternoon, shall I?” asked Phil.  “I’ll know when—­after I’ve had my dinner and raced three times round the big field, then it’ll be time.  That’s how it was to-day.”

“I should think it would do if you walked three times—­or twice if you like—­round the field.  It isn’t a good thing to race just when you’ve had your dinner,” observed Griselda sagely.  “And you mustn’t try to come if it isn’t fine, for my aunts won’t let me go out if it rains even the tiniest bit And of course you must ask your nurse’s leave.”

“Very well,” said little Phil as he trotted off.  “I’ll try to remember all those things.  I’m so glad you’ll play with me again; and if you see the cuckoo, please thank him.”