George held up his kite. There was a large hole in it. In trying to raise his kite, the little boy, being perhaps rather clumsy, had got it entangled in a tree. Its beauty was spoiled, and George had brought it home without having had the pleasure of seeing it up in the sky.
"Well, well," said his kind old grandfather, "we will have it mended and try it again. Better luck next time!"
Carlo, the dog, looked up, as much as to say, "If there is anything I can do for you, George, call on me."
But George's bright little sister Susan, without saying a word, ran into the house and brought a pot of paste and some paper. "I'll mend it for you, George," said she, "in three minutes."
And sure enough, she mended it so neatly that it was as good as new the next morning, and George took it out again with a face as merry as ever. He got it up in fine style this time, and had a grand time flying it.

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