Amy pressed her soft cheek against her mother's arm, and looked up in her
face with her tearful blue eyes. She was relieved to see just the shadow
of a smile.

"Give me Master Alick, nurse," said Mrs. Beauchamp; "I am afraid he has
toothache.--There! see, Alick, all the pretty green fields going past
outside."

"It's _us_ that is going past," said Dick.

"Hold me too, mother," said Amy suddenly; "take me in your arms like you
do Alick."

"But Alick will cry if I put him down. See, I can manage like that; there
is room for both of you."

She made a large lap, and Amy scrambled on to it. It was like a nest with
two birds in it--not very restful, perhaps, to the nest, but quite
delightful for the birds. They were very good little birds, too, and they
did not quarrel; and presently Amy nudged mother's arm, and spoke in the
tiniest whisper. "One of the birds has gone to sleep," she said.

Alick's eyes were shut, and his round, flushed face was lying on mother's
hand. When she tried to take it gently away he stirred, and squeaked
restlessly.

"Let's pretend he's a cuckoo and push him out," suggested Tom.

"Tommy!" said his mother.