As he came to the end of the sentence he sighed once more, very heavily and sadly, then waited.
"Yes, yes, go on," Granny said, as he looked at her expectantly; "read to the end, like my good little boy."
He obeyed, but with a look of protest on his face, which changed to one of injury, when, at the close of the one lesson, he found that Granny intended him to read another.
This was not what he had expected, and he was disappointed with her accordingly.
"That is just as much as I read with Briggs," he said, looking at her with a world of reproach.
"But you must read as much with me as you do with Briggs," she said, looking slightly fatigued with the arduous duty of giving the little beggar his lessons.
"Why must I?" he asked.
"Now, now, don't ask so many questions," she said slightly flustered. "Begin here, my dear child."
"'Ben! Ben! I can see a fly!'" he started impatiently, and stumbling over the words in his haste; "'and the fly can fly, and the fly can die, and the fly is shy, and can get to the pie, and can get on the rye! and the fly can run, and can get on the bun, all for its fun! and the fly is gay all the day, and oh, Ben! Ben! the fly is in my ear, so do put it out of my ear.'"... Chris came to a stop, and leant his head back on Granny's shoulder.
"What a funny thing it must be to have a fly in your ear," he remarked thoughtfully. "Have you ever had a fly in your ear, Granny?"