lazy. I'm awfully fond of doing _everything_--I
don't even mind if it's a hard thing, so long as it isn't anything in
books," said Fritz, sturdily. "Some people's made one way, and some's
made another, and I'm made the way of not liking books."

"I wonder what Baby will say to books," said mother, smiling.

"Is jography in books," said Baby. "Him wants to learn jography."

"_I_ think it's awfully stupid," said Denny. "I'm sure you won't like it
once you begin. Did _you_ like lessons when you were little, mother?"

"Yes, I'm sure mother did," said Fritz. "People's fathers and mothers
were always far gooder than their children are. I've noticed that. If
ever big people tell you about when they were little, it's always about
how good they were. And they say always, 'Dear me, how happy children
should be nowadays; _we_ were never allowed to do so and so when _we_
were little.' That's the way old Mrs. Nesbitt always talks, isn't it
mother? I wonder if it's true. If people keep getting naughtier than
their fathers and mothers were, the world will get _very_ naughty some
day. _Is_ it true?"

"I think it's true that children get to be more spoilt," said Denny in a
low voice. "Just look how Baby's clambering all over mother! O Baby,
you nearly knocked over mother's cup! _I_ never was allowed to do like
that when _I_ was a little girl."

Everybody burst out laughing--even mother--but Denny had the good
quality of not minding being laughed at.

"Was the tea nice, and the bread and butter and honey?" she said
eagerly, as mother rose to put the empty cup in a place of safety.

"Very nice, thank you," said mother. "But I must go, dears. I have a
good many things to talk about with grandfather and auntie."

"Packing?" said Baby.

"How you do go on about packing!" said Denny. "Of course mother's not
going to pack to-night."

Baby's face fell.

"Him does so want to begin packing," he said dolefully. "'Appose we
forgottened somesing, and we was over the sea!"

"Well, I must talk about it all, and write down all we have to take,"
said mother. "So I must go to auntie now."

"Oh, not yet, not yet. Just five minutes more!" cried the children.
"And, mother," said Celia, "you've not answered my question. _Is_ it
true that children used to be so much better long ago? Were you never
naughty?"

"Sometimes," said mother, smiling.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Celia. "Often, mother? I do hope you were often
naughty. Do tell us a sto