George," answered the composed wife, "don't you think it is rather soon
to trouble ourselves with that question? Robin is a mere child yet. We
must first give him a good education."

"Of course, I know that," returned the perplexed husband, "still, I
can't help thinking about what is to be done after he has had the good
education. You know I have no relation in the world except brother
Richard, who is as poor as myself. We have no influential friends to
help him into the Army or the Navy or the Indian Civil Service; and the
Church, you know, is not suitable for an imp. Just look at him _now_!"

Mrs Wright looked through the window, over one of those sunny
landscapes which are usually described as "smiling," across a winding
rivulet, and at last fixed her gorgeous eyes on a tall post, up which a
small black object was seen to be struggling.

"What can he be up to?" said the father.

"He seems to be up the telegraph-post," said the mother, "investigating
the wires, no doubt. I heard him talking about telegraphy to Madge this
morning--retailing what cousin Sam tries to teach him,--and I shouldn't
wonder if he were now endeavouring to make sure that what he told her
was correct, for you know he is a thorough investigator."

"Yes, I know it," murmured the father, with a grim pursing of his lips;
"he investigated the inside of my watch last week, to find out, as he
said, what made the noise in its `stummick,' and it has had intermittent
fever ever since. Two days ago he investigated my razor,--it is now
equal to a cross-cut saw; and as to my drawers and papers, excepting
those which I lock up, there is but one word which fully describes the
result of his investigations, and that is--chaos."

There was, in truth, some ground for that father's emotions, for Master
Robin displayed investigative, not to say destructive, capacities far in
advance of his years.

"Never mind, George," said Mrs Wright soothingly, "we must put up with
his little ways as best we may, consoling ourselves with the reflection
that Robin has genius and perseverance, with which qualities he is sure
to make his way in the world."

"He has at all events made his way up the telegraph-post," said Mr
Wright, his smile expanding and the grimness of it departing; "see! the
rascal is actually stretching out his hand to grasp one of the wires.
Ha! hallo!"

The composed wife became suddenly discomposed, and gave vent to a
scream, for at that moment t