back to bed."

Johnnie caught up the handkerchief, and smothering their laughter, the
two scrambled back up the ladder, and dashed straight into the heather.

Meanwhile the poor Tailor came wearily down-stairs. Day after day,
since his wife's death, he had come down every morning to the same
desolate sight--yesterday's refuse and an empty hearth. This morning
task of tidying was always a sad and ungrateful one to the widowed
father. His awkward struggles with the house-work in which _she_
had been so notable, chafed him. The dirty kitchen was dreary, the
labour lonely, and it was an hour's time lost to his trade. But life
does not stand still while one is wishing, and so the Tailor did that
for which there was neither remedy nor substitute; and came down this
morning as other mornings to the pail and broom. When he came in he
looked round, and started, and rubbed his eyes; looked round again,
and rubbed them harder: then went up to the fire and held out his hand,
(warm certainly)--then up to the table and smelt the mushrooms,
(esculent fungi beyond a doubt)--handled the loaf, stared at the open
door and window, the swept floor, and the sunshine pouring in, and
finally sat down in stunned admiration. Then he jumped up and ran to
the foot of the stairs, shouting,

"Mother! mother! Trout's luck has come again." "And yet, no!" he
thought, "the old lady's asleep, it's a shame to wake her, I'll tell
those idle rascally lads, they'll be more pleased than they deserve. It
was Tommy after all that set the water and caught him." "Boys! boys!"
he shouted at the foot of the ladder, "the Brownie has come!--and if he
hasn't found my measure!" he added on returning to the kitchen; "this
is as good as a day's work to me."