Bobby was not quite six years old, but he thought himself quite a man, and a very strong man too. He was a sturdy little fellow, and as he never caught cold, his mother allowed him to run about without shoes and stockings when the weather was warm and dry.

Bobby's mother was always a little afraid of his being hurt. She had only two children—Lucy, who was twelve, and Bobby—and she was sometimes very anxious lest Bobby should come to some harm when he would work among the men. She also forbade him the use of knives and all sharp instruments. This was a real grief to Bobby, as the men knew it, and would sometimes tease him, and it was then so difficult to pretend to himself that his knife wasn't in his pocket, as he could have done for his own satisfaction.

One day in the spring, when the laurel hedge was being cut, one of the men offered to lend Bobby a knife, and, without a thought of his mother's wishes, Bobby took it, and began cutting in a great hurry. Alas! after a few boughs had come off, Bobby tried to cut a thicker one, which he had to hold down with his left hand, so that when the knife slipped he cut his third finger rather badly. He ran at once to Lucy with the knife in his hand, and then dropped it on the ground close to his bare toes. In his thoughtlessness he might have cut his foot also if Mother had not come out and picked up the knife. She was more sorry than angry at Bobby's disobedience, but the boy was more careful to obey his mother after that, and among the presents on his next birthday there was a capital knife from Mother, but given on condition that at first it should only be used when his father was present, and could show him what ought to be done with it. Bobby is a very happy boy now, because no one can tease him, as he has that precious knife of his very own.

LINK TO ILLUSTRATED PAGE