But the little boy did not feel like weeding that day.
“I can’t do it,” he said.
“Oh! yes, you can,” said the nurse.
“Well, I don’t want to,” said the little boy.
“But you must!” said the nurse. “Don’t be naughty, but go at once and do your work as I bid you!”
She went away about her own work, for she was very industrious; but the little boy sat still, and thought himself ill-used.
By and by his mother came into the room and saw him.
“What is the matter, little boy?” she asked; for he looked like a three-days’ rain.
“Nurse told me to weed my garden,” said the little boy.