presence of Rubens could dispel the darkness of
my dreams that night.

Alternately goaded and caressed by my nurse, who now laid aside a
habit she had of beating a tattoo with her knuckles on my head when I
was naughty, to the intense confusion and irritation of my brain, I
at last resolved to beg my father to let her remain with us. I felt
that it was--as she had pointed out--intense ingratitude on my part to
wish to part with her, and I said as much when I went down to dessert
that evening. Morever, I now lived in vague fear of those terrible
qualities which lay hidden beneath Mrs. Bundle's benevolent exterior.

"If nurse has been teasing you about the matter," said my father, with
a frown, "that would decide me to get rid of her, if I had not so
decided before. As to your not liking Mrs. Bundle now--My dear little
son, you must learn to know your own mind. You told me you wanted Mrs.
Bundle--by very good luck I have been able to get hold of her, and
when she comes you must make the best of her."

She came the next day, and my bony nurse departed. She wept
indignantly, I wept remorsefully, and then waited in terror for the
manifestation of Mrs. Bundle's cruel propensities.

I waited in vain. The reign of Mrs. Bundle was a reign of peace and
plenty, of loving-kindness and all good things. Moreover it was a
reign of wholesomeness, both for body and mind. She did not give me
cheese and beer from her own supper when she was in a good temper, nor
pound my unfortunate head with her knuckles if I displeased her. She
was strict in the maintenance of a certain old-fashioned nursery
etiquette, which obliged me to put away my chair after meals, fold my
clothes at bedtime, put away my toys when I had done with them, say
"please," "thank you," grace before and after meals, prayers night and
morning, a hymn in bed, and the Church Catechism on Sunday. She
snubbed the maids who alluded in my presence to things I could not or
should not understand, and she directed her own conversation to me, on
matters suitable to my age, instead of talking over my childish head
to her gossips. The stories of horror and crime, the fore-doomed
babies, the murders, the mysterious whispered communications faded
from my untroubled brain. Nurse Bundle's tales were of the young
masters and misses she had known. Her worst domestic tragedy was about
the boy who broke his leg over the chair he had failed to put away
after breakfast. Her romances were the