"How was that, Mrs. Goose?" your Aunt Amy asked.

"It was something that began a long time ago on the next farm; but wasn't finished till last week. You see a little boy calf was born over there once upon a time, and no sooner did the poor little thing come into this world than Sammy Boy thought it great fun to drive him from his mother, beat him with a stick, pull his tail, and do all kinds of mean things.

"'You're a mean, selfish, cruel boy,' the calf said to himself, when he was forced to put up with whatever Sammy felt like doing to him. 'I'll get even with you if it takes me years to do it--You think I can't remember, because I don't talk the same way you do; but just wait and see!'

"Of course Sammy didn't understand what the calf said, and he poked him all the harder with a big stick, laughing as if he thought it great fun. Well, the years went on, and Mr. Calf grew to be big and strong. Sammy also grew, but not as fast as the calf did, and the time came when he didn't dare pull his tail, or poke him with a stick.

"One day when Mr. Calf was three years old, and the folks called him Mr. Bull, Sammy went out to look at his pigeons, which he wickedly keeps shut up in a little box, and some one had left the pasture bars down.

"Mr. Bull was standing near-by, and when he saw Sammy he said to himself, as he lowered his head and stuck his tail straight up in the air:

"'Now's my chance! I'll show that boy how good it is to have those who are stronger try to be cruel.'

"Sammy had forgotten all about tormenting the calf; but I'm thinking he remembered it when he picked himself up on the other side of the farmyard fence, where Mr. Bull had tossed him. His arm was broken, and his clothes torn; but with all that he wasn't hurt any worse than the poor little calf was when Sammy poked him with a stick, or pulled his tail."

Mr. Bull Pays Off Old Scores

Just at this time Mr. Gander came back to say that Mr. Donkey had promised to teach the boys, who had been riding Mrs. Cow's baby as if it was a horse, such a lesson that they wouldn't forget it very quickly.

"He's going down into the meadow," Mr. Gander said, "and if those little rascals are yet there, he'll chase them from one end to the other, flinging up his heels, and making believe he is trying to kick them. By the time he gets through, I'll promise you they won't be so eager to pick upon a poor little youngster who isn't large enough to take care of himself."