"
Having said this he immediately took a sharp axe with which to remove
the bark and the rough surface. Just, however, as he was going to give
the first stroke he remained with his arm suspended in the air, for
he heard a very small voice saying imploringly: "Do not strike me so
hard!"
Picture to yourselves the astonishment of good old Master Cherry!
He turned his terrified eyes all around the room to try and discover
where the little voice could possibly have come from, but he saw
nobody! He looked under the bench--nobody; he looked into a cupboard
that was always shut--nobody; he looked into a basket of shavings and
sawdust--nobody; he even opened the door of the shop and gave a glance
into the street--and still nobody. Who, then, could it be?
"I see how it is;" he said, laughing and scratching his wig;
"evidently that little voice was all my imagination. Let us set to
work again."
And taking up the axe he struck a tremendous blow on the piece of
wood.
"Oh! oh! you have hurt me!" cried the same little voice dolefully.
This time Master Cherry was petrified. His eyes started out of his
head with fright, his mouth remained open, and his tongue hung out
almost to the end of his chin like a mask on a fountain.
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