fun, and loves to play out of doors in all kinds of weather.

But what little boy can be merry when he has a raging toothache! Ned
bore it like a hero; but he had to give up at last, and he was glad to
take refuge in his mother's lap, and be a baby again for a while.

With his head pillowed on his mother's breast, the little boy found some
relief; but still he was in great pain. His sister stood by, trying to
think of some way to help him. Ned could hardly keep from crying; but he
said to his mother, "I should like to have you tell me a story."

"What shall it be, darling?" said his mother.

"Tell me about Harry and his dog Jack." This story had been told to Ned
when he was a very, very little boy, and a good many times since then.
It seemed odd to his mother that he had chosen such an old story. But he
wanted to hear it; and so she told it all over again. This is the
story:--

"There was once a little boy named Harry, and he had a little dog named
Jack. Jack was a queer-looking dog. He was nearly all black; but he had
a white tail, and his front-feet were white.

"Harry loved Jack very much, and as he never forgot to feed him, and
never teased him, the dog loved Harry very much. When Harry went to
school, Jack went too,--not into the schoolroom (for dogs can't learn to
read, you know), but into the school-yard, where he played about till
Harry came out again. At recess, he used to play with the boys, and have
almost as much fun as if he were a boy too.