In they walked, and there was a nice tidy kitchen, with a wooden cradle
in the corner, and a little fair-haired boy sitting by it and rocking
the baby. This was Johnny, and Olly looked at him with great curiosity.
"I've got bigger legs than Johnny," he whispered solemnly at last to
Aunt Emma, while they were waiting for Mrs. Tyson, who had gone upstairs
to fetch the stockings.

"Perhaps you eat more bread and milk than Johnny does," said Aunt Emma,
very solemnly too, "However, most likely Johnny's stockings will
stretch. How's the baby, Johnny?"

"She's a great deal better, ma'am," said the little boy, smiling at her.
Milly and Olly made him feel shy, but he loved Aunt Emma.

"Have you been taking care of her all the morning for mother?"

"Yes, ma'am, and she's never cried but once," said Johnny proudly.

"Well done! Ah! there comes Mrs. Tyson. Now, Olly, sit up on that chair,
and we'll see to you."

Off came the dirty stockings, and Mrs. Tyson slipped on a pair of woolen
socks that tickled Olly very much. They were very thick, and not a bit
like his own stockings; and when he got up again he kept turning round
and round to look at his legs, as if he couldn't make them out.

"Do they feel funny to you?" said Mrs. Tyson, patting his shoulder.
"Never you mind, little master; I know they're nice and warm, for I
knitted them myself."