Sylvie adopted the suggestion instantly. “So Bruno said ‘Please, Sirm, I want it for my Picnic.’ And the Oven said ‘O! But I hope you wo’n’t _toast_ any of it?’ And Bruno said ‘No, _indeed_ I wo’n’t! New Bread’s so light and so puffy, it wants no toasting!’” “It never doesn’t want no toasting,” said Bruno. “I _wiss_ oo wouldn’t say it so short!” “So Bruno put the Bread in the hamper. Then Bruno said ‘Now I want some Apples!’ So he took the hamper, and he went to the Apple-Tree, and he picked some lovely ripe Apples. And the Apple-Tree said——” Here followed another long pause. Bruno adopted his favourite expedient of tapping his forehead; while Sylvie gazed earnestly upwards, as if she hoped for some suggestion from the birds, who were singing merrily among the branches overhead. But no result followed. “What _does_ an Apple-tree begin with, when it wants to speak?” Sylvie murmured despairingly, to the irresponsive birds. At last, taking a leaf out of Bruno’s book, I ventured on a remark. “Doesn’t ‘Apple-tree’ always begin with ‘Eh!’?” “Why, of _course_ it does! How _clever_ of you!” Sylvie cried delightedly. Bruno jumped up, and patted me on the head. I tried not to feel conceited. “So the Apple Tree said ‘Eh! What are you going to do with all those Apples?’ And Bruno said ‘Please, Sir, I want them for my Picnic,’ And the Apple-Tree said ‘Eh! But I hope you wo’n’t _bake_ any of them?’ And Bruno said ‘No, _indeed_ I wo’n’t! Ripe Apples are so nice and so sweet, they want no baking!’” “They never doesn’t——” Bruno was beginning, but Sylvie corrected herself before he could get the words out. “‘They never doesn’t nonow want no baking.’ So Bruno put the Apples in the hamper, along with the Bread, and the bottle of Milk. And he set off to have a Picnic, on the top of the hill, all by himself——” “He wasn’t greedy, oo know, to have it all by himself,” Bruno said, patting me on the cheek to call my attention; “’cause he hadn’t got no brothers and sisters.” “It was very sad to have no _sisters_, wasn’t it?” I said. “Well, I don’t know,” Bruno said thoughtfully; “’cause he hadn’t no lessons to do. So he didn’t mind.” Sylvie went on. “So, as he was walking along the road, he heard behind him such a curious sort of noise—a sort of a Thump! Thump! Thump! ‘Whatever _is_ that?’ said Bruno. ‘Oh, I know!’ said Bruno. ‘Why, it’s only my Watch a-ticking!’” “_Were_ it his Watch a-ticking?” Bruno asked me, with eyes that fairly sparkled with mischievous delight. “No doubt of it!” I replied. And Bruno laughed exultingly. “Then Bruno thought a little harder. And he said ‘No! It _ca’n’t_ be my Watch a-ticking; because I haven’t _got_ a Watch!’” Bruno peered up anxiously into my face, to see how I took it. I hung my head, and put a thumb into my mouth, to the evident delight of the little fellow.