Our Ned is a brave little fellow about eight years old. He is full of fun, and loves to play out of doors in all kinds of weather. But what little boy can be merry when he has a raging toothache! Ned bore it like a hero; but he had to give up at last, and he was glad to take refuge in his mother's lap, and be a baby again for a while. With his head pillowed on his mother's breast, the little boy found some relief; but still he was in great pain. His sister stood by, trying to think of some way to help him. Ned could hardly keep from crying; but he said to his mother, "I should like to have you tell me a story."
"What shall it be, darling?" said his mother.
"Tell me about Harry and his dog Jack." This story had been told to Ned when he was a very, very little boy, and a good many times since then. It seemed odd to his mother that he had chosen such an old story. But he wanted to hear it; and so she told it all over again.

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