s very meek, and only looked
wistfully at the pie when told in her own words that pastry was bad for
children.

Any attempts at conversation were promptly quenched by the worn-out old
saying, 'Children should be seen, not heard,' while Harry and Kitty
chattered all dinner-time, and enjoyed it to their hearts' content,
especially the frequent pecks at their great children, who, to be even
with them, imitated all their tricks as well as they could.

'Don't whistle at table, papa;' 'keep your hands still mamma;' 'wait
till you are helped, sir;' 'tuck your napkin well in, and don't spill
your soup, Caroline.'

Aunt Betsey laughed till her eyes were full, and they had a jolly time,
though the little people had the best of it, for the others obeyed them
in spite of their dislike to the new rules.

'Now you may play for two hours,' was the gracious order issued as they
rose from table.

Mamma fell upon a sofa exhausted, and papa hurried to read his paper in
the shady garden.

Usually these hours of apparent freedom were spoilt by constant
calls,--not to run, not to play this or that, or frequent calls to do
errands. The children had mercy, however, and left them in peace; which
was a wise move on the whole, for the poor souls found rest so agreeable
they privately resolved to let the children alone in their play-hours.

'Can I go over and see Mr. Hammond?' asked papa, wishing to use up the
last half-hour of his time by a neighbourly call.

'No; I don't like Tommy Hammond, so I don't wish you to play with his
father,' said Harry, with a sly twinkle of the eye, as he turned the
tables on his papa.

Mr. Fairbairn gave a low whistle and retired to the barn, where Harry
followed him, and ordered the man to harness up old Bill.

'Going to drive, sir?' asked papa, respectfully.

'Don't ask questions,' was all the answer he got.

Old Bill was put into the best buggy and driven to the hall door. Papa
followed, and mamma sprang up from her nap, ready for her afternoon
drive.

'Can't I go?' she asked, as Kitty came down in her new hat and gloves.

'No; there isn't room.'

'Why not have the carryall, and let us go, too, we like it so much,'
said papa, in the pleading tone Harry often used.

Kitty was about to consent, for she loved mamma, and found it hard to
cross her so. But Harry was made of sterner stuff; his wrongs still
burned within him, and he said impatiently--

'We can't be troubled with you. The buggy is n