“He is coming,” said Bobby. “I hear his bell.”
“That sounds like his bell,” said Mother. “Look out, Bobby, and see if it really is the scissors-grinder.”
“It is the scissors-grinder!” cried Bobby. “He is coming down the back street.”
They looked out and saw the scissors-grinder.
He was carrying his grindstone on his back and playing a tune with his bell.
“Call him, Bobby,” said Mother.
The scissors-grinder was quick to see Bobby.
Before Bobby had time to call, he had turned in toward the back door.
