e young folk did enjoy themselves that night!
What shouting and laughter there was, what a jingling of the piano, what
hiding in corners, what romping on the stair case! And the round games,
and the charades, and the family posts! Oh dear me, I'm an old watch,
and I've gone through a good many noisy scenes, but I never remember
such a racket as this.

And how the young folk besieged the elder and compelled them to join in
the fun. There was papa down on his hands and knees with half-a-dozen
youngsters on his back. And there was Uncle Joseph performing tricks of
conjuring before a select audience; and Mr Drift telling stories to
another; and as for the reverend Uncle Jim, he was made blind man, and
had his long coat-tails pulled; and, strange to say, he never caught
anybody all the time. And then the supper! who shall describe that? the
clattering of dishes, the rattle of knives and forks, the banging of
crackers, the peals of laughter, and the cross-fire of chaff.

Alas! all good things must come to an end, and so did this party. One
by one the little guests said good-bye, and after they had gone the
little family of children and elders was left alone. Though it was past
eleven, the little urchin Charlie insisted on clambering on to Mr
Drift's knee, to hear one last story, and the little girls besieged
their uncles, and put their arms round their necks, and besought their
intercession with mamma to gain them another half-hour's respite down
stairs.

"Charlie," said Tom Drift, "this little fellow is worrying me for a
story. Suppose you tell one."

"Oh yes," shouted that small chorus. "Oh yes! papa, please tell us a
story?"

"Hear, hear!" said Uncle Joe.

"Fire away," said Uncle Jim.

"Remember, it must be quite a short one, Charles," said mamma.

Charlie Newcome the elder looked puzzled for a minute, and fidgeted
uncomfortably in his seat.

Then he turned to his eldest boy, and said,--

"Tom, open that cabinet there and bring me the watch that is under the
glass-case."

"The old, ugly watch, papa?" asked the boy, running off on his errand.

"Yes, the old, ugly watch," said papa, with a queer sort of smile.

The boy brought me. I was taken out of my case, and lay there in his
open hand.

"Once upon a time," began papa--and what a hush fell on that little
company!--"once upon a time there was a little boy,"--why was it
everyone but the children looked so grave? and why did Mr Drift push
his cha