herself.

Harry found papa enjoying the last delightful doze that makes bed so
fascinating of a morning. As if half afraid to try the experiment, the
boy slowly approached and gave the sleeper a sudden, hard shake, saying
briskly,--

'Come, come, come, lazy-bones! Get up, get up!'

Papa started as if an earthquake had roused him, and stared at Harry,
astonished for a minute, then he remembered, and upset Harry's gravity
by whining out,--

'Come, you let me alone. It isn't time yet, and I am _so_ tired.'

Harry took the joke, and assuming the stern air of his father on such
occasions, said impressively,--

'You have been called, and now if you are not down in fifteen minutes
you won't have any breakfast. Not a morsel, sir, not a morsel;' and,
coolly pocketing his father's watch, he retired, to giggle all the way
downstairs.

When the breakfast bell rang, mamma hurried into the dining-room,
longing for her tea. But Kitty sat behind the urn, and said gravely,--

'Go back, and enter the room properly. Will you never learn to behave
like a lady?'

Mamma looked impatient at the delay, and having re-entered in her most
elegant manner, sat down, and passed her plate for fresh trout and
muffins.

'No fish or hot bread for you, my dear. Eat your good oatmeal porridge
and milk; that is the proper food for children.'

'Can't I have some tea?' cried mamma, in despair, for without it she
felt quite lost.

'Certainly not. _I_ never was allowed tea when a little girl, and
couldn't think of giving it to you,' said Kitty, filling a large cup for
herself, and sipping the forbidden draught with a relish.

Poor mamma quite groaned at this hard fate, but meekly obeyed, and ate
the detested porridge, understanding Kitty's dislike to it at last.

Harry, sitting in his father's chair, read the paper, and ate everything
he could lay his hands on, with a funny assumption of his father's
morning manner. Aunt Betsey looked on much amused, and now and then
nodded to the children as if she thought things were going nicely.

Breakfast was half over when papa came in, and was about to take Harry's
place when his son said, trying vainly to look grave as he showed the
watch,--

'What did I tell you, sir? You are late again, sir. No breakfast, sir.
I'm sorry, but this habit _must_ be broken up. Not a word; it's your own
fault, and you must bear the penalty.'

'Come, now, that's hard on a fellow! I'm awful hungry. Can't I have just
a