quarrelled, and would not
forgive each other's trespasses in the least, in spite of all that I
could do to try and make peace between them.

Chris went off in the sulks, but after a long time I came upon him in
the toy-cupboard, looking rather pale and very large-headed, and
winding up his new American top, and talking to himself.

When he talks to himself he mutters, so I could only just hear what he
was saying, and he said it over and over again:

"_Dos first and feels afterwards_."

"What are you doing, Chris?" I asked.

"I'm getting ready my new top to give to Harry. _Dos first and feels
afterwards._"

"Well," I said, "Christopher, you _are_ a good boy."

"I should like to punch his head," said Chris--and he said it in just
the same sing-song tone--"but I'm getting the top ready. _Dos first
and feels afterwards_."

And he went on winding and muttering.

Afterwards he told me that the "feels" came sooner than he expected.
Harry wouldn't take his top, and they made up their quarrel.

Christopher is very simple, but sometimes we think he is also a little
sly. He can make very wily excuses about things he does not like.

He does not like Nurse to hold back his head and wash his face; and at
last one day she let him go down-stairs with a dirty face, and then
complained to Mother. So Mother asked Chris why he was so naughty
about having his face washed, and he said, quite gravely, "I do think
it would be _such pity_ if the water got into my head again by
accident." Mother did not know he had ever heard about it, but she
said, "Oh, Chris! Chris! that's one of your excuses." And he said,
"It's not my _'scusis_. She lets a good deal get in--at my ears--and
lather too."

But, with all his whimsical ways, Lady Catherine is devoted to
Christopher. She likes him far better than any one of us, and he is
very fond of her; and they say quite rude things to each other all
along. And Father says it is very lucky, for if she had not been so
fond of Chris, and so ready to take him too, Mother would never have
been persuaded to leave us when Aunt Catherine took them to the South
of France.

Mother had been very unwell for a long time. She has so many worries,
and Dr. Solomon said she ought to avoid worry, and Aunt Catherine said
worries were killing her, and Father said "Pshaw!" and Aunt Catherine
said "Care killed the cat," and that a cat has nine lives, and a woman
has only one; and then Mother got worse, and Aunt Cat