'YOU MUST BE SURE TO WRITE IT ALL DOWN.'
'Yes—and how he trampled on our gardens, and broke down my rose-bush and all my pinks. I don't think I shall have room for all the things there are to tell mamma about him. There never was such a naughty boy! When he gets one of his tempers he does not seem to know what he is doing.'
And Ellen leaned down on the table, and went on writing.
Just then the door opened, and Bob himself came in. He was a fat, rosy little boy, and he did not look very fierce now; indeed, he looked quite meek and gentle. He came up to his sisters, and said, 'Bob is sorry; he won't spoil dolls and gardens again.'
'Ah! it is too late now, Bob,' said Ellen; 'you have spoiled everything; and I am telling mamma all about it in my letter, so she won't bring you the baker's cart and the whip that you wanted.'
You are a very naughty boy, Bob,' said Jessy, 'and I am not going to play with you again.'
Bob went very red.
'Take care; he's going into a temper again,' said Ellen, as Bob made a snatch at the letter she was writing. She held it out of his reach, and then he gave a loud scream and began crying with all his might.
'I'll go to nurse!' he cried, rushing out of the room, shouting as loud as he could.
'He is the worst boy that ever lived!' said Jessy.