“‘You come and see,’ chuckled Mr. Cross. Then he took his hat down from a peg, and he and the ten little girls went back to the pasture.
“Over the fence they scrambled, and Mr. Cross took a little whistle from his pocket and blew it softly.
“In a minute the head of a big sheep appeared, and before the ten little girls had time to think the whole flock were back in their own pasture and were coming straight for Mr. Cross.
“‘Oh!’ cried Susan.
“‘Oh! Oh!’ cried the nine others.
“‘Well, well, well!’ said Mr. Cross. ‘Don’t mean to say you’re afraid? Well, they’ll be the ’fraidest—see!’
“Even then the sheep had stopped, hardly knowing whether to come or to turn back.
“‘Needn’t be a mite afraid,’ Mr. Cross said to the ten little girls huddled close behind him, and then again softly he blew his whistle.
“At that the sheep came forward, and the ten little girls were half frightened and half delighted to see how tame they were and how they fairly tumbled over one another to poke their noses into Mr. Cross’s pockets, to get the salt which was there.
“‘Isn’t he nice!’ exclaimed Mary Lamb, after the ten little girls had bidden Mr. Cross a laughing good-bye.