There was no one in the nursery, fortunately for Ted's plans. Unfortunately rather, we should perhaps say, for if nurse had been there, she would have asked for what he wanted the little bottle which had held the cod-liver oil, that he had lately left off taking, but of which a few drops still remained.
Ted climbed on to a chair and reached the shelf where it stood, and in two minutes he was off again, bottle in hand, in triumph. He found Cheviott lying still, where he had left him; he looked up and yawned as Ted appeared, and then growled with an air of satisfaction. It was sometimes a little difficult for Chevie to decide exactly how much care he was to take of Ted. After all, a little two-legged boy that could talk was not quite the same as a lamb, or even a sheep. He could not run round him barking, to prevent his trotting where he wished—there were plainly some things Ted had to do with and understood which Chevie's dog-experience did not reach to.
So Cheviott lay there and blinked his honest eyes in the sunshine, and stared at Ted and wondered what he was after now! For Ted was in a very tip-top state of delight! He sat down cross-legged on the grass, drew the delicious big shears to him—they were heavy for him even to pull—and uncorking the bottle of "fissy" oil, began operations.
"Zem is sticked fast, to be soore," he said to himself, adopting David's favourite expression, as he tugged and tugged in vain. "If thoo could hold one side and Ted the other, they would soon come loosened," he observed to Cheviott. But Cheviott only growled faintly and blinked at his master sleepily, and after a good deal more tugging Ted did manage to open the shears, which indeed at last flew apart so sharply that the boy toppled over with the shock, and rolled for a moment or two on the grass, though happily not on the shears, before he recovered his balance.
Laughing merrily, he pulled himself up again. Luckily the bottle had not been overturned. Ted poured a drop or two carefully on to his fingers, quite regardless of the fishy smell, and proceeded to anoint the scissors. This he repeated several times, polishing them all over till they shone, but not understanding that the place where the oil was needed was the hinge, he directed the best of his attention to the general shininess.
Then he sat and looked at them admiringly.
"Won't David be p'eased?" he said. "Zem's oilened all over now. Ted must see if they don't sticken fast now."
With nearly as much difficulty as he had had to open them, Ted now managed to shut them.
"Zem's better," thought the busy little man, "but Ted must see how they cut."
He laid them flat on the grass, at a place where the blades had not been completely sheared by the scythe. Tug number one—the oil had really done some good, they opened more easily—tug number two, behold them gaping—tug number three, they bite the grass, and Ted is just going to shout in triumph when a quick shock of pain stabs through him. He had been kneeling almost on the shears, and their cruel jaws had snipped, with the grass, the tender fleshy part of his poor little leg!