Just then Rollo pointed up to the wall, and said,
“See, there is a tiger on the wall;—it looks like a tiger.”
His father looked up at the irregular lines on the wall, which had attracted his little boy’s attention, but he could not see any thing that resembled a tiger.
“I don’t see,” said his father; “where is his head?”
“He has not got any head; it is not a tiger, it only looks like a tiger. It has got a tail.”
“Well, where is his tail?”
“I—don’t—know. I see a stag, too, and camel.”
In a minute or two his father turned Rollo’s face over gently towards himself, so that his attention should not be attracted by what he saw there. He wanted him to listen to what he was saying to him.
“Well, Rollo,” said he, “whose clothes are you going to wear to-day?”
“Oh, I am going to wear my clothes,” said Rollo; “yours would be a great deal too big.”