Little Sally Waters

by Ethel Calvert Phillips

Now the little boy’s mother had come out to him, and in the doorway, half hiding behind the door, there stood a tall, tall man.

‘Andy, stop crying and let me speak to you,’ said the little boy’s mother.

But Andy only screamed the louder and began to whirl himself round like a top.

‘Oh, Andy, stop, stop,’ said the little boy’s mother again. ‘Oh, what shall I do with you?’

Tippy knew very well what Sally’s mother would have done, but he wouldn’t have told, if he could. He didn’t want to see Andy whisked off to bed, even though it would have cured the tantrum in a trice.

But just then Andy found his voice.

‘I won’t be sick!’ shouted Andy, still flinging his arms about. ‘I won’t go to bed! I won’t take medicine! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!’

When he heard this, the man behind the door poked his head out and spoke to Andy’s mother.

‘Tell him he won’t have to go to bed,’ he called in a loud voice. ‘Tell him that he won’t have to take medicine, and that he won’t be sick.’

‘There, Andy, listen to what the Doctor says,’ said Andy’s mother. ‘You won’t have to go to bed, you won’t have to take medicine, and you won’t be sick.’