t of a
small bill with which I had been entrusted--we will call it the
"Importation of Mad Dogs Bill,"--and about four o'clock I handed it to
Robin with instructions to write out a fair copy. Robin retired into his
inner chamber, and I sat down in an arm-chair with _Punch_. (It was a
Wednesday, the Parliamentary half-holiday of those days, and still,
happily, the _Punch_-day of these.)

Kitty was holding a Drawing-room Meeting upstairs. I forget what
description of body she was entertaining: it was either a Society for
the Propagation of something which could never, in the nature of things,
come to birth; or else an Association for the Prevention of something
that was bound to go on so long as the world endured. I had been
mercifully absolved from attending, and my tea had been sent in to me. I
was enjoying an excellent caricature of my Chief in the minor cartoon of
_Punch_, when I heard the door of the inner room open and the voice of
my daughter inquire--

"Are you _drefful_ busy, Uncle Robin?" (My secretary had been elevated
to avuncular rank after a probation of just three hours.)

There was a sound as of a chair being pushed back, and a rustle which
suggested the hasty laying aside of a manuscript, and Robin's voice
said--

"Come away, Philly!" (This is a favourite Scoticism of Robin's, and
appears to be a term denoting hearty welcome.)

There was a delighted squeal and the sound of pattering feet. Next
ensued a period of rather audible osculation, and then there was
silence. Presently Phillis said--

"What shall we do? Shall I sing you a hymn?"

Evidently the revels were about to commence.

"I have just learned a new one," she continued. "I heared it in Church
yesterday afternoon, so I brought it home and changed it a bit. It's
called 'Onward, Chwistian Sailors!'"

"'_Soldiers_,' isn't it?"

"No--'_Sailors_.' It _was_ 'Soldiers,' but I like sailors much better
than soldiers, so I changed it. I'll sing it now."

"Wait till Sunday," said Robin, with much presence of mind. "Will you
not tell me a story?"

This idea appeared so good that Phillis began forthwith.

"Once there were three horses what lived in a stable. Two was wise and
one was just a foolish young horse. There was some wolves what lived
quite near the stable----"

"Wolves?" said my secretary, in tones of mild surprise.

"The stable," explained Phillis, "stood in the midst of the snowy plains
of Muscovy. I should have telled you that b