But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's the way the boys do." So he raised himself on his hands and knees first, planting one foot at a time firmly before trying to stand. But, as he was straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and this time it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon the treacherous ice.
Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the next attempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. So he crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching hold of it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must put one foot out at a time, so,—and then the other. Oh! I can do it now."
So he tried again. One beautiful stroke, then another, and over he went again, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even his little body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to be rather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had picked himself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible ache at his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but was frightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too much for him. He sent forth a cry that would have made your heart ache.
Just then Jamie came back; and there he found poor Taddy standing in the water, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten through his tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a big purple bump was rapidly appearing on his forehead.
"Halloo! what's going on?" shouted Jamie. Taddy's story was very humble; and kind-hearted Jamie carried him into the house, where his mother was just inquiring for him.
"I left my little boy to learn another kind of lesson," she said. "But perhaps the one he has taught himself will do as much good."
M. L.
