ter and more
natural to be born of your own parents, like most folk are."

"So do I," agreed Mrs. Bateson; "I'd never have adopted a child myself.
I should always have been expecting to see its parents' faults coming
out in it--so different from the peace you have with your own flesh and
blood."

Mrs. Hankey groaned. "Your own flesh and blood may take after their
father; you never can tell."

"So they may, Mrs. Hankey--so they may; but, as the Scripture says, it
is our duty to whip the old man out of them."

"Just so. And that's another thing against adopted children--you'd
hesitate about punishing them enough; I don't fancy as you'd ever feel
the same pleasure in whipping 'em as you do in whipping your own. You'd
feel you ought to be polite-like, as if they was sort of visitors."

"My children always took after my side of the house, I'm thankful to
say," said Mrs. Bateson; "so I hadn't much trouble with them."

"I wish I could say as much; I do, indeed. But the Lord saw fit to try
me by making my son Peter the very moral of his father; as like as two
peas they are. And when you find one poor woman with such a double
portion, you are tempted to doubt the workings of Providence."

Mrs. Bateson looked sympathetic. "That's bad for you, Mrs. Hankey!"

"It is so; but I take up my cross and don't complain. You know what a
feeble creature Hankey is--never doing the right thing; and, when he
does, doing it at the wrong time; well, Peter is just such another. Only
the other day he was travelling by rail, and what must he do but get an
attack of the toothache? Those helpless sort of folks are always having
the toothache, if you notice."

"So they are."

"Peter's toothache was so bad that he must needs take a dose of some
sleeping-stuff or other--I forget the name--and fell so sound asleep
that he never woke at the station, but was put away with the carriage
into a siding. Fast asleep he was, with his handkerchief over his face
to keep the sun off, and never heard the train shunted, nor nothing."

"Well, to be sure! Them sleeping-draughts are wonderful soothing, as
I've heard tell, but I never took one on 'em. The Lord giveth His
beloved sleep, and His givings are enough for them as are in health; but
them as are in pain want something a bit stronger, doubtless."

"So it appears," agreed Mrs. Hankey. "Well, there lay Peter fast asleep
in the siding, with his handkerchief over his face. And one of the
porters happens