“Well,” he exclaimed at the end of the story, “that boy of yours is cut out for something, you may depend. He won’t be drowned at any rate!”
“No,” said the vicar reflectively; “this is the second merciful escape he has had from the water.”
“Yes, and once from fire, too,” put in the other, alluding to the gunpowder episode. “He’s a regular young desperado!”
“I hope not, Jolly,” hastily interposed the vicar. “I don’t like your joking about his escapades in that way. I hope he will be good—eh, my boy?” and he stroked Teddy’s head as he walked along by his side, father and son being alike hatless, their headgear remaining floating on the pond, along with the remains of the raft, to frighten the frogs and fishes.
Teddy uttered no reply; but his little heart was full, and he made many inward resolves, which, alas! his eight-year-old nature was not strong enough to keep.
Chapter Eight.
Unappreciated.
He really did not mean any harm; but mischief is mischief whether intentional or not, and somehow or other he seemed continually to be getting into it. Circumstances, over which, of course, he had no control, continually overruled his anxious desire to be good.