pted.

After a general "scrimmage," in which the five chips of the elder
McTougall had joined, without regard to any concerted plan, Dolly
suddenly shouted "'Top!"

"What are we to stop for?" demanded Harry, whose powers of
self-restraint were not strong.

"Want a 'est!" said Dolly, sitting down on a stool with a resolute
plump.

"Rest quick, then, and let's go on again," said Harry, throwing himself
into a small chair, while Job and Jenny sprawled on an ottoman in the
window.

Seeing that her troops appeared to be exhausted, and that a period of
repose had set in, the tall nurse thought this a fitting opportunity to
retire for a short recreative talk with the servants in the kitchen.

"Now be good, child'n," she said, in passing out, "and don't 'urt poor
little Dumps."

"Oh no," chorused the five, while, with faces of intense and real
solemnity, they assured nurse that they would not hurt Dumps for the
world.

"We'll be _so_ dood!" remarked Dolly, as the door closed--and she really
meant it.

"What'll we do to him now?" asked Harry, whose patience was exhausted.

"Tut off him's head," cried Dolly, clapping her fat little hands.

"No, burn him for a witch," said Jenny.

"Oh no! ve'll skeese him flat till he's bu'sted," suggested Job.

But Jenny thought that would be too cruel, and Harry said it would be
too tame.

It must not be supposed that these and several other appalling tortures
were meant to be really attempted. As Job afterwards said, it was only
play.

"Oh! I'll tell you what we'll do," said Jack, who was considerably in
advance of the others in regard to education, "we'll turn him into Joan
of Arc."

"What's Joan of Arc?" asked Job.

"It isn't a what--it's a who," cried Jack, laughing.

"Is it like Noah's Ark?" inquired Dolly.

"No, no; it's a lady who lived in France, an' thought she was sent to
deliver her country from--from--I don't know all what, an' put on men's
clo'es an' armour, an' went out to battle, an' was burnt."

"Bu'nt!" shouted Dolly, with sparkling eyes; "oh, what fun!--We're goin'
to bu'n you, Pompey." They called him by Lilly Blythe's name.

Dumps, who sat in a confused heap in a corner, panting, seemed
regardless of the fate that awaited him.

"But where shall we find armour?" said Harry.

"_I_ know," exclaimed Job, going to the fireplace, and seizing the lid
of a saucepan which stood on the hearth near enough to the tall fender
to be within reach, "here's