“Why, I never!” cried the father, half puzzled and half admiring. “You be too little, Johnny—you’d be tired out afore the day was half done.” “Nay, nay” and the little head was shaken until the golden mop was in full display. “Nay, I’d not be tired. I can walk so far as Rosie, an’ I do want to go in the roundabouts.” “Want to go in the roundabouts, do ’ee? That’s a tale.” Here John Reed laughed, scratched his head, and contemplated his small sturdy son. “I d’ ’low you’d enjoy the roundabouts, and the shows and that—jist about. But we shan’t be home till late. And whatever ’ud Mother say? Ye’d best stop an’ take care of Mother, I reckon, Sonny.” “Nay,” said Johnny junior. “I be goin’ with ’ee; Mammy have got Puss!” And thereupon the red-haired giant laughed long and loud, and the imp beside him knew the victory was his. The sun was sinking when they came indoors, both looking extremely important, albeit somewhat sheepish, as became a pair of conspirators. Mrs. Reed stood by the window mending the coat which her master was to wear on the morrow; Maggie, a tall, shapely girl of seventeen, was ironing a starched white petticoat; while Rosie, the younger daughter, busily stitched a lace frill on the neck of her Sunday dress. An air of joyful bustle and excitement pervaded the place, for, although Mrs. Reed herself had ceased to join in the annual outing, she was good-natured enough to share the others’ pleasure at the prospect. “There, Missus, I’ve cut ye enough wood to do ye for a week,” announced John, “an’ me and the little chap ’ull feed chicken jist now.” “It’s time for Johnny to go to bed,” remarked the mother, gazing at him fondly, however. “He’s best out of the way to-night—there do always seem to be sich a lot to be done afore Shroton.” “Well,” agreed John falteringly, “p’r’aps he would be best abed, more particular as he has a mind to come wi’ us to-morrow.” There was a chorus of surprise and disapproval, in the midst of which Johnny stood silent, gazing from one to the other with a solemn, resolute little face. It was not until “Dada” himself had begun to show signs of wavering that the little fellow suddenly sat down on the ground and began to cry. Now Johnny occupied a somewhat unique position in the family, which may thus be accounted for: Rosie and Maggie had come tumbling into the world hard on each other’s heels; and then five little graves, side by side under the churchyard yew, marked the advent and departure of five little boys, not one of whom had lived more than a few years; and then, after a long interval, when the cradle had been put away and the baby-clothes laid by on the top shelf of the cupboard, Johnny had made his appearance; and Johnny had from the first evinced a determination to live, and from the moment he could walk had become the recognised ruler of the entire household.