'I'm not so very little,' said Hildebrand; 'and you know how brave I am. Why, it was only last week that I was the chief of the mighty tribe of Moccasins, who waged war against Bill Billson, the Vulture-faced Redskin----' He told the story to its gory end, and Ethel liked it very much, and hoped it wasn't wrong to make up such things. She couldn't quite believe it all. Then she went down, and Hildebrand had to wash his face for dinner; and when he looked at the boy in the looking-glass and saw the black eye Billson Minor had given him, and the cut lip from the same giver, he clenched his fist and said: 'I wish I could make things true by saying them. Wouldn't I bung up old Billson's peepers, that's all?' 'Well, you can if you like,' said the boy in the glass, whom Hildebrand had thought was his own reflection. 'What?' said he, with his mouth open. He was horribly startled. 'You can if you like,' said the looking-glass boy again. 'I'll give you your wish. Will you have it?' 'Is this a fairy-tale?' asked Hildebrand cautiously. 'Yes,' said the boy. Hildebrand had never expected to be allowed to take part in a fairy-tale, and at first he could hardly believe in such luck. 'Do you mean to say,' he said, 'that if I say I found a pot of gold in the garden yesterday I did find a pot of gold?' 'No; you'll find it to-morrow. The thing works backwards, you see, like all looking-glass things. You know your "Alice," I suppose? There's only one condition: you won't be able to see yourself in the looking-glass any more!' 'Who wants to,' said Hildebrand. 'And things you say to _yourself_ don't count.' 'There's always Ethel,' said Ethel's brother. 'You accept, then?' said the boy in the glass. 'Rather!' 'Right' And with that the looking-glass boy vanished, and Hildebrand was left staring at the mirror, which now reflected only the wash-hand-stand and the chest of drawers, and part of the picture of Lord Roberts pinned against the wall. You have no idea how odd and unpleasant it is to look at a glass and see everything reflected as usual, except yourself, though you are right in front of it. Hildebrand felt as if he must have vanished as well as the looking-glass boy. But he was reassured when he looked down at his hands. They were still there, and still extremely dirty. The second bell had rung, and he washed them hastily and went down. 'How untidy your hair is!' said his mother; 'and oh, Hildebrand, what a disagreeable expression, dear! and look at your eye! You've been fighting again.' 'I couldn't help it,' said our hero sulkily; 'he called names. Anyway, I gave him an awful licking. He's worse than I am. Potatoes, please.' Next day Hildebrand had forgotten the words he had said at dinner. And when Billson asked him if one licking was enough, and whether he, Billson, was a liar or not, Hildebrand said: 'You can lick me and make me anything you like, but you _are_, all the same, just as much as me,' and he began to cry.