boy,” she said, “I made it just as usual. You must be mistaken. Let me—” and then she tasted the gingerbread.

Well, she did not get up and dance, but she came very near it. “What does this mean?” she cried. “I made it just as usual. What can it be? Ah!” she added, a new thought striking her. “Toto, bring me the ginger and the soda; bring just what you brought me this afternoon. Quick! don’t stop to examine the boxes; bring the same ones.”

Toto, wondering, brought the box full of something yellow, and the bag full of something white.

His grandmother tasted the contents of both, and then she leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily. “My dear little boy,” she said, “you think I am a very good cook, and I myself think I am not a very bad one; but I certainly cannot make good gingerbread with mustard and salt instead of ginger and soda!”

Toto thought there were some disadvantages about being blind, after all; and after that his grandmother always tasted the ingredients before she began to cook.

Now, it happened one day that the grandmother was sitting in the sun before the cottage door, knitting; and as she knitted, from time to time she heaved a deep sigh. And one of those sighs is the reason why this story is written; for if the grandmother had not sighed, and Toto had not heard her, none of the funny things that I am going to tell you would have happened. Moral: always sigh when you want a story written.

Toto was just coming home from the wood, where he had been spending the afternoon, as usual. As he came round the corner of the cottage he heard his grandmother sigh deeply, as if she were very sad about something; and this troubled Toto, for he was an affectionate little boy, and loved his grandmother dearly.

“Why, Granny!” he cried, running up to her and throwing his arms round her neck. “Dear Granny, why do you sigh so? What is the matter? Are you ill?”

The grandmother shook her head, and wiped a tear from her sightless eyes. “No, dear little boy!” she said. “No, I am not ill; but I am very lonely. It’s a solitary life here, though you are too young to feel it, Toto, and I am very glad of that. But I do wish, sometimes, that I had some one to talk to, who could tell me what is going on in the world. It is a long time since any one has been here. The travelling pedler comes only once a year, and the last time he came he had a toothache, so that he could not talk. Ah, deary me! 11 it’s a solitary life.” And the grandmother shook her head again, and went on with her knitting.

Toto had listened to this with his eyes very wide open, and his mouth very tight shut; and when his grandmother had finished speaking, he went and sat down on a stone at a little distance, and began to think very hard. His grandmother was lonely. The thought had never occurred to him before. It had always seemed as natural for her to stay at home and knit and make cookies, as for him to go to the wood. He supposed all grandmothers did so. He wondered how it felt to be lonely; he thought it must be very unpleasant. He was never lonely in the wood.

“But then,” he said to himself, “I have all my friends in the wood, and Granny has none. Very likely if I had no friends I should be lonely too. I wonder what I can do about it.”

Then suddenly a bright idea struck him. “Why,” he thought,—“why should not my friends be Granny’s friends too? They are very amusing, I am sure. Why should I not bring them to see 12 Granny, and let them talk to her? She couldn’t be lonely then. I’ll go and see them this minute, and tell them all about it. I’m sure they will come.”

Full of his new idea, the boy sprang to his feet, and ran off in the direction of the wood. The grandmother called to him, “Toto! Toto! where are you going?” but he did not hear her. The good woman shook her head and went on with her knitting. “Let the dear child amuse himself as much as he can now. There’s little enough amusement in life.”

But Toto was not thinking of his own amusement this time. He ran straight to the wood, and entered it, threading his way quickly among the trees, as if he knew every step of the way, which, indeed, he did. At length, after going some way, he reached an open space, with trees all round it. Such a pretty place! The ground was carpeted with softest moss, into which the boy’s feet sunk so deep that they were almost covered; and all over the moss were sprinkled little star-shaped pink 13 flowers. The trees stood back a little from this pretty place, as I said; but their long branches met overhead, as they bent over to look down into—what do you think?—the loveliest little pool of water that ever was seen, I verily believe. A tiny pool, as round as if a huge giant had punched a hole for it with the end of his umbrella or walking-stick, and as clear as crystal. The edge of the pool was covered all round with plants and flowers, which seemed all to be trying to get a peep into the clear brown water. I have heard that these flowers growing round the pool had become excessively vain through looking so constantly at their own reflection, and that they gave themselves insufferable airs in consequence; but as this was only said by the flowers which did not grow near the pool, perhaps it was a slight exaggeration. They were certainly very pretty flowers, and I never wondered at their wanting to look at themselves. You see I have been in the wood, and know all about it.

It was in this pretty place that Toto stopped. 14 He sat down on a great cushion of moss near the pool, and began to whistle. Presently he heard a rustling in the tree-tops above his head. He stopped whistling and looked up expectantly. A beechnut fell plump on his nose, and he saw the sharp black eyes of a gray squirrel peering at him through the leaves.

“Hello, Toto!” said the squirrel. “Back again already? What’s the matter?”

“Come down here, and I’ll tell you,” said Toto.

The squirrel took a flying leap, and alighted on Toto’s shoulder. At the same moment a louder rustling was heard, among the bushes this time, a sound of cracking and snapping twigs, and presently a huge black bear poked his nose out of the bushes, and sniffed inquiringly. “What’s up?” he asked. “I thought you fellows had gone home for the night, and I was just taking a nap.”

“So we had,” said Toto; “but I came back because I had something important to say. I 15 want to see you all on business. Where are the others?”

“Coon will be here in a minute,” answered the bear. “He stopped to eat the woodchuck’s supper. Chucky was so sound asleep it seemed a pity to miss such an opportunity. The birds have all flown away except the wood-pigeon, and she told me she would come as soon as she had fed her young ones. What’s your business, 16 Toto?” and Bruin sat down in a very comfortable attitude, and prepared to listen.

“Well,” said Toto, “it’s about my grandmother. You see, she—oh! here’s Coon! I’ll wait for him.” As he spoke, a large raccoon came out into the little dell. He was very handsome, with a most beautiful tail, but he looked sly and lazy. He winked at Toto, by way of greeting, and