ONCE there was a little boy called Tommy. His Mother sent him one day into the town to buy some needles. On his way home he got tired of carrying them, so when he saw a hay-cart which he knew would pass his Mother’s door he stuck the needles into a bundle of hay. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where are the needles?”

“Oh! Mother, they will be here directly. I was tired of carrying them, so I stuck them into a hay-cart which is coming this way, and it will soon be here.”

“Oh, you stupid boy, Tommy! you stupid boy! If you were tired of carrying the needles you should have stuck them into your coat.”

“I’ll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into the town and fetch a pound of butter?”

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of butter, and put it all over his coat. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where’s the butter?”

“I put it all over my coat, but the sun melted it.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put it on a nice white plate and covered it with a piece of white paper.”

“Oh! I’ll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has given us a little hen. Will you go and fetch it?”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. Off he went, fetched the little hen, and put it on a white plate; but before he could put a nice piece of white paper over it, it had flown quite away!

When he got home, his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where is the little hen?”

“Oh! Mother, I did what you told me; I put it on a white plate, but before I could cover it with a piece of paper it flew quite away.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You ought to have put it in a wicker basket and shut down the lid.”

“I’ll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, there is a plum pudding for dinner. Go and fetch a pound of brown sugar.”

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of sugar, and put it in a wicker basket, and shut the lid down tight. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where’s the sugar?”

“Here it is, Mother, here it is.” And he opened the basket, but it was quite empty, for all the sugar had tumbled through the holes in the wicker-work!

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put the sugar in a paper bag and tied a piece of string very tightly round it.”

“I’ll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

Some time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has promised us a dear little puppy dog. Will you go and fetch it?”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, fetched the little puppy dog, put it in a paper bag, and tied a piece of string very tightly round its neck. When he got home and opened the bag, the poor little puppy was quite dead.

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You should have tied a string quite loosely round the little dog’s neck, and let it run after you, and you should have called, 'Hi, little dog!’”

“I’ll do better next time, Mother,” said Tommy, crying.

A long time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into the town and fetch a leg of mutton? Now, mind you bring it home very carefully.”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, bought a leg of mutton, tied a piece of string round it, and dragged it after him on the ground, and said: “Hi, little dog! Ho, little dog!” and all the little dogs in the town came after him and ate the mutton, and when he got home there was nothing left but the bone!

When his Mother saw it, she said: “Really, Tommy, you are too stupid; you really are quite a goose.”

A little while after, Tommy was nowhere to be found. His Mother hunted everywhere for him; she cried “Tommy!” here and “Tommy!” there, but she could not find him. As she was coming through the yard and crying and calling, “Tommy! where’s my boy Tommy?” she heard a little voice that seemed to come from the poultry-house: “Here I am, Mother; here I am!”

She opened the door, and there was Tommy sitting on the goose’s nest. She asked him what he was doing, and he said: “Oh! Mother, you said I was quite a goose, so I thought I had better come and sit on the goose’s nest, and I’ve broken all the eggs!”

Wasn’t he a silly boy?

Constance Milman.