'It looks just as if we were going to have a thunder-shower,' Mrs. Marston said. 'I wish, George, you would find Rose and Elsie, and tell them to come home.'

'But I don't know where to look for them,' George said.

'They are certain to be somewhere in the fields. And take an umbrella with you. Elsie has such a bad cold, I shall be vexed if she gets wet.'

'Oh, Mother, I don't believe it will rain, and I do want to finish painting this rabbit-hutch! It is such a nuisance to leave things half done.'

'My boy, it is not right to argue with your mother when she asks you to do something for her.'

'Bother those kids,' George muttered crossly, as he went off, grumbling, to hunt for an umbrella.

It was a hot, thundery day, and he was feeling still more cross after searching through three fields and finding no trace of the children.

'The clouds are clearing away, and blue sky is showing everywhere,' he said to himself. 'It is perfectly idiotic to go on with this wild-goose chase.'

Then he climbed a stile for a look into the next field, and what he saw almost made his heart stand still.

Rose and Elsie were sitting on the grass, busily arranging some flowers they had been gathering to make a nice bunch for their mother.

Behind them was a large freshly made gap in the hedge, and coming through it was a fierce bull belonging to a neighbouring farmer.

George was horror-struck. What should he do? If he shouted and alarmed the children, they would be too frightened to know what to do, and should the bull give chase, they might be overtaken before they could reach the stile.

In a moment his mind was made up. He jumped over into the field, and ran as fast as he could to try and get between the bull and the children.

He was only just in time. Rose and Elsie started up when they saw him, but when they realised their danger, they were almost too scared to move.

'Get to the stile as quickly as you can,' George called to them; and then he ran towards the bull, and opened his umbrella quickly before the astonished animal.

The fierce creature lowered his horns and seemed uncertain whether to charge his enemy or to flee before him.

Again George fired off his umbrella as if it were a gun, and this time the bull decided it would be better to retreat in a dignified way to his own domain. You may be sure George lost no time in getting out of the field.

'My brave boy!' his mother whispered when the breathless children had arrived home and had told their story. 'How thankful I am that I have an obedient son!'

'But, Mother, I nearly disobeyed,' George confessed, and he grew pale when he thought what it would have meant if he had not arrived in time.

M. H.