A wasp settled near him, and very neatly the young naturalist picked him up and put him in his paper prison.

“Now you get one,” he ordered William.

William determined not to be outshone by this minute but dauntless stranger.  As a wasp obligingly settled on a flower near him, he put out his hand, only to withdraw it with a yell of pain and apply it to his mouth.

“Oo—­ou!” he said.  “Crumbs!”

Thomas emitted a peal of laughter.

“You stung?” he said.  “Did it sting you? Funny!”

William’s expression of rage and pain was exquisite to him.

“Come on, boy!” he ordered at last.  “Let’s go somewhere else.”

William’s bewildered dignity made a last stand.

“You can go,” he said.  “I’m playin’ by myself.”

“All right!” agreed Thomas.  “You play by you’self an’ me play by myself, an’ we’ll be together—­playin’ by ourselves.”

He set off down a path, and meekly William followed.

It must be jolly late—­almost tea-time.

“I’m hungry,” said Thomas suddenly.  “Give me some brekfust.”

“I haven’t got any,” said William irritably.

“Well, find some,” persisted the infant.

“I can’t.  There isn’t any to find.”

“Well, buy some!”

“I haven’t any money.”

“Well, buy some money.”

Goaded, William turned on him.

“Go away!” he bellowed.

Thomas’s blue eyes, beneath a mop of curls, met his coldly.

“Don’t talk so loud,” he said sternly.  “There’s some blackberries there.  You can get me some blackberries.”

William began to walk away, but Thomas trotted by his side.

“There!” he persisted.  “Jus’ where I’m pointing.  Lovely great big suge ones.  Get ’em for my brekfust.”

Reluctantly the scout turned to perform his deed of kindness.

Thomas consumed blackberries faster than William could gather them.

“Up there,” he commanded.  “No, the one right up there I want.  I want it kick.  I’ve etten all the others.”

William was scratched and breathless, and his shirt was torn when at last the rapacious Thomas was satisfied.  Then he partook of a little refreshment himself, while Thomas turned out his pockets.

“I’ll let ’em go now,” he said.

One of his wood-lice, however, stayed motionless where he put it.

“Wot’s the matter with it?” said William, curiously.

“I ’speck me’s the matter wif it,” said Thomas succinctly.  “Now, get me some lickle fishes, an’ tadpoles an’ water sings,” he went on cheerfully.

William turned round from his blackberry-bush.

“Well, I won’t,” he said decidedly.  “I’ve had enough!”

“You’ve had ’nuff brekfust,” said Thomas sternly.  “I’ve found a lickle tin for the sings, so be kick.  Oo, here’s a fly!  A green fly!  It’s sittin’ on my finger.  Does it like me ‘cause it’s sittin’ on my finger?”