family you know, dears. His mother
would have been about a hundred and thirty. It takes us back to the
middle of George the Second's reign."

"Yes," said Molly so promptly, that every one looked amazed, "George the
First, seventeen hundred and fourteen, George the Second, seventeen
hundred and twenty-seven, George the Third, seventeen hundred and----"

"When did you learn that--this morning I suppose?" observed Ralph with
biting sarcasm.

"No," said Molly complacently, "I always could remember the four Georges.
Sylvia will tell you. _She_ always remembered the Norman Conquest, and
King John, and so when we spoke about something to do with these dates
when we were out a walk Miss Bryce used to be as pleased as pleased with
us."

"Is that the superlative of 'very pleased,' my dear Molly?" said aunty.

Molly wriggled.

"History is bad enough," she muttered. "I don't think we need
have grammar too, just when I thought we were going to have nice
story-talking. Did _you_ like lessons when you were little, grandmother
dear?" she inquired in a louder voice.

"I don't know that I did," said grandmother. "I was a very tom-boy little
girl, Molly. And lessons were not nearly so interesting in those days as
they are made now."

"Then they must have been--_dreadful_," said Molly solemnly, pausing for
a sufficiently strong word.

"What did you like when you were little, grandmother?" said Sylvia. "I
mean, what did you like best?"

"I really don't know what I liked _best_," said grandmother. "There were
so many nice things. Haymaking was delicious, so were snow-balling and
sliding; blindman's buff and snapdragon at Christmas were not bad, nor
were strawberries and cream in summer."

The children drew a long breath.

"Had you all those?" they said. "Oh, what a happy little girl you must
have been!"

"And all the year round," pursued grandmother, "there was another delight
that never palled. When I look back upon myself in those days I cannot
believe that ever a child was a greater adept at it."

"What was that, grandmother?" said the children, opening their eyes.

"_Mischief_, my dears," said grandmother. "The scrapes I got into of
falling into brooks, tearing my clothes, climbing up trees and finding
I could not get down again, putting my head through window-panes--ah
dear, I certainly had nine lives."

"And what did your grandmother say? Did she scold you?" asked
Molly--adding in a whisper to Ralph and Sylvia, "Gr