thumb (a thing which members of the Reform are seldom seen to do),
and he stared wide-eyed at his tear stained sister. Edward put off his
histrionics, and rushed up to her as the consoler--a new part for him.

"I know a jolly story," he began. "Aunt Eliza told it me. It was when
she was somewhere over in that beastly abroad"--(he had once spent a
black month of misery at Dinan)--"and there was a fellow there who had
got two storks. And one stork died--it was the she-stork." ("What did
it die of?" put in Harold.) "And the other stork was quite sorry, and
moped, and went on, and got very miserable. So they looked about and
found a duck, and introduced it to the stork. The duck was a drake, but
the stork didn't mind, and they loved each other and were as jolly
as could be. By and by another duck came along,--a real she-duck this
time,--and when the drake saw her he fell in love, and left the stork,
and went and proposed to the duck: for she was very beautiful. But the
poor stork who was left, he said nothing at all to anybody, but just
pined and pined and pined away, till one morning he was found quite
dead! But the ducks lived happily ever afterwards!"

This was Edward's idea of a jolly story! Down again went the corners of
poor Charlotte's mouth. Really Edward's stupid inability to see the real
point in anything was TOO annoying! It was always so. Years before, it
being necessary to prepare his youthful mind for a domestic event that
might lead to awkward questionings at a time when there was little
leisure to invent appropriate answers, it was delicately inquired of
him whether he would like to have a little brother, or perhaps a little
sister? He considered the matter carefully in all its bearings, and
finally declared for a Newfoundland pup. Any boy more "gleg at the
uptak" would have met his parents half-way, and eased their burden.
As it was, the matter had to be approached all over again from a fresh
standpoint. And now, while Charlotte turned away sniffingly, with a
hiccough that told of an overwrought soul, Edward, unconscious (like Sir
Isaac's Diamond) of the mischief he had done, wheeled round on Harold
with a shout.

"I want a live dragon," he announced: "you've got to be my dragon!"

"Leave me go, will you?" squealed Harold, struggling stoutly. "I'm
playin' at something else. How can I be a dragon and belong to all the
clubs?"

"But wouldn't you like to be a nice scaly dragon, all green," said
Edward, t