ing them safely back again."

"What foolishness, Emma! You seem to forget that, for the last year,
Fani has had his own drawing-teacher, who gives his pupils what he
thinks best for them to copy, and, doubtless, has plenty of patterns of
all kinds. So take the roll away; it would be absurd to carry it. And
that hideous bundle, what is in it? It is twice too big to go in here."

"I was afraid it would be," said Emma, rather crestfallen. "But I
thought I could carry it in my lap, and, really, I must take it, mamma.
It is that book which I chose for a Christmas present, you know; the
'Lives of Distinguished Painters.' I want to carry it for Fani to read;
and, for fear of hurting the handsome binding, I wrapped it up in two
petticoats and a waterproof cloak and a small table-cloth, and then I
put some enamel-cloth outside the whole."

"You do get hold of most unfortunate ideas, my child! we shall never
get ready at this rate. Come, we'll take the book out of all these
wrappings, and then perhaps we can get it in. But you haven't brought
anything that you really need, though you have had such a long time to
think about it all. And here aunty and I are standing waiting and can't
get through, because you have nothing ready for us."

At this moment aunty exclaimed, in a tone of alarm:--

"For pity's sake, Oscar! what is that that you are tugging along?"

With a tremendous racket Oscar came into the room, dragging behind him a
drum, which he could not carry, because in one hand he had a large bunch
of bells and in the other a harmonica and a flute.

"Oscar dear, your own good-sense can tell you that you can't get a drum
into this bag; to say nothing of the other instruments. What in the
world do you want with them? Mrs. Stanhope wouldn't thank you for such
music!"

"It isn't for the house, aunty," answered the boy. "It is for the
festival out-of-doors. I've taken only Fred's small drum, because mine
is too large. See if it won't go in here!" and Oscar measured the drum
against his travelling-bag, only to be compelled to acknowledge that it
was too large by half. The bells, too, had to be laid aside, though the
boy complained that they were absolutely needed to call the guests
together at the festival.

"Whose flute is that?" asked the aunt; "it is a beauty."

"It belongs to Feklitus. He is learning to play on it; and he was glad
enough to lend it to me, because while it's gone he can't be made to
practise!"

Mother