rgoyne, as she
flung her sewing aside and snatched the baby. "Paul," said she, kissing
his warm, moist neck, "do you truly love me a little bit?"

"Boy ge' down," said Paul, struggling violently.

"Yes, you shall, darling. But listen, do you want to hear the
tick-tock? Oh, Paul, sit still just one minute!"

"Awn ge' DOWN," said Paul, distinctly, every fibre of his small being
headed, as it were, for the pebbly shingle where it was daily his
delight to dig.

"But say 'deck' first, sweetheart, say 'Deck, I love you,'" besought
the mistress of the Hall.

"Deck!" shouted Paul obediently, eyes on the river.

"And a sweet kiss!" further stipulated Mrs. Burgoyne, and grabbed it
from his small, red, unresponsive mouth before she let him toddle away.
"Yes," she resumed, going on with the tucking of a small skirt, "Joanna
and Jeanette and the Adams boy have to write an essay this week about
the Battle of Bunker Hill, so I read them Holmes' poem, and they acted
it all out. You never saw anything so delicious. Mrs. Lloyd came up
just in time to see Mabel limping about as the old Corporal! The cherry
tree was the steeple, of course, and both your sons, you'll be ashamed
to hear, were redcoats. Next week they expect to do Paul Revere, and I
daresay we'll have the entire war, before we're through. You are both
cordially invited."

"I'll come," said the doctor's wife, smiling. "I love this garden. And
to take care of the boys and have a good time myself is more than I
ever thought I'd do in this life!"

"I live on this bank," said Mrs. Burgoyne, leaning back luxuriously in
her big chair, to stare idly up through the apple-tree to the blue sky.
"I'm going to teach the children all their history and poetry and
myths, out here. It makes it so real to them, to act it. Jo and Ellen
and I read Barbara Frietchie out here a few weeks ago, and they've
wanted it every day or two, since."

"We won't leave anything for the schools to do," said little Mrs. Brown.

"All the better," Mrs. Burgoyne said, cheerfully.

"Well, excuse me!" Mrs. Lloyd, holding the linen cuff she was
embroidering at arm's length, and studying it between half-closed lids.
"I am only too glad to turn Mabel over to somebody else part of the
time. You don't know what she is when she begins to ask questions!"

"I don't know anything more tiring than being with children day in and
day out," said Mrs. Brown, "it gets frightfully on your nerves!"

"Oh, I'd like abou