-heavy drama.
Each one, a small but determined opposition to the order of things in
general, is forever doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, in the
wrong place and in the wrong way. The nurse-girl who sent Jenny to
see what Tommy and Totty were doing and "tell 'em they mustn't" knew
infantile nature. Give an average baby a fair chance, and if it doesn't
do something it oughtn't to a doctor should be called in at once.

They have a genius for doing the most ridiculous things, and they do
them in a grave, stoical manner that is irresistible. The business-like
air with which two of them will join hands and proceed due east at a
break-neck toddle, while an excitable big sister is roaring for them to
follow her in a westerly direction, is most amusing--except, perhaps,
for the big sister. They walk round a soldier, staring at his legs with
the greatest curiosity, and poke him to see if he is real. They stoutly
maintain, against all argument and much to the discomfort of the victim,
that the bashful young man at the end of the 'bus is "dadda." A crowded
street-corner suggests itself to their minds as a favorable spot for the
discussion of family affairs at a shrill treble. When in the middle of
crossing the road they are seized with a sudden impulse to dance, and
the doorstep of a busy shop is the place they always select for sitting
down and taking off their shoes.

When at home they find the biggest walking-stick in the house or an
umbrella--open preferred-of much assistance in getting upstairs.
They discover that they love Mary Ann at the precise moment when that
faithful domestic is blackleading the stove, and nothing will relieve
their feelings but to embrace her then and there. With regard to food,
their favorite dishes are coke and cat's meat. They nurse pussy upside
down, and they show their affection for the dog by pulling his tail.

They are a deal of trouble, and they make a place untidy and they cost
a lot of money to keep; but still you would not have the house without
them. It would not be home without their noisy tongues and their
mischief-making hands. Would not the rooms seem silent without their
pattering feet, and might not you stray apart if no prattling voices
called you together?

It should be so, and yet I have sometimes thought the tiny hand seemed
as a wedge, dividing. It is a bearish task to quarrel with that purest
of all human affections--that perfecting touch to a woman's life--a
mother's