He had hardly finished speaking when, with alarming suddenness, he found himself standing on his head, his feet held firmly up in the air by his father’s strong hands. He was reversed, immediately, and Mr. Leslie inquired,—
“How did the world—or what you saw of it—look to you while you were standing on your head, my son?”
“Why, upside down, papa, of course!” said Johnny, laughing in spite of himself as he recalled the queer effect which had come from seeing everything, apparently, hanging from the ceiling, “without visible means of support.”
“Do you believe,” continued Mr. Leslie, “that the world really was upside down for a moment?”
“Why no, papa; I’m not such a goose as all that, I hope!”
“And yet,” said Mr. Leslie, thoughtfully, “I think you remarked, a while ago, that it seemed as if everything had sort of gone upside down to-day.”
“But that’s quite different, papa,” said Johnny, hastily.
“Oh!” said Mr. Leslie, “When mamma comes to tuck you up, suppose you ask her to tell you the story of The Little Boy and the Field Glass. Good night, my dear little son, and pleasant, right-side-up dreams to you!”
Johnny went off, almost in a good humor. It was not the first time he had taken what his father called “an order for a story” to his mother, and he knew he should hear something entertaining, even though, as his heart misgave him, he should also be made to feel the point of the story a little.
His mother laughed when she, heard the “order.”