ught
downstairs and into the parental presence in the library.

"Your Harry is a fine fellow, Mrs. Bradley," said Thaddeus.

"Yes, we think Harry is a very nice boy," returned Mrs. Bradley,
with a fond glance at the youth.

"Wot djer si about me, mar?" asked Harry.

"Nothing, dear," replied Mrs. Bradley, raising her eyebrows
reprovingly.

"Yes, yer did, too," retorted Harry. "Yer said as 'ow hi were a
good boy."

"Well, 'e i'n't, then," interjected Jennie. "'E's a bloomin' mean
un. 'E took a knoife an' cut open me doll."

"'Ush, Jinnie, 'ush!" put in the nurse. "Don't yer tell tiles on
'Arry. 'E didn't mean ter 'urt yer doll. 'Twas a haxident."

"No, 'twasn't a haxident," said Jennie. "'E done it a-purpice."

"Well, wot if hi did?" retorted Harry. "Didn't yer pull the tile
off me rockin'-'orse?"

"Well, never mind," said Bradley, seeing how strained things were
getting. "Don't quarrel about it now. It's all done and gone, and
I dare say you were both a little to blame."

"'Hi war'n't!" said Harry, and then the subject was dropped. The
children romped in and out through the library and halls for some
time, and the Bradleys and Perkinses compared notes on various
points of interest to both. After a while they again reverted to
the subject of their children.

"Does Harry go to school?" asked Bessie.

"No, we think he's too young yet," returned Mrs. Bradley. "He
learns a little of something every day from Harriet, who is really a
very superior girl. She is a good servant. She hasn't been in this
country very long, and is English to the core, as you've probably
noticed, not only in her way of comporting herself, but in her
accent."

"Yes, I've observed it," said Bessie. "What does she teach him?"

"Oh, she tells him stories that are more or less instructive, and
she reads to him. She's taught him one or two pretty little songs--
ballads, you know--too. Harry has a sweet little voice. Harry,
dear, won't you sing that song about Mrs. Henry Hawkins for mamma?"

"Don't warn'ter," said Harry. "Hi'm sick o' that bloomin' old
song."

"Seems to me I've heard it," said Thaddeus. "As I remember it,
Harry, it was very pretty."

"It is," said Bradley. "It's the one you mean--'Oh, 'Lizer! dear
'Lizer! Mrs. 'Ennery 'Awkins.' Harry sings it well, too; but I
say, Thad, you ought to hear the nurse sing it. It's great."

"I should think it might be."

"She has the accent down fine, you know