s the 22nd of December, the younger Ffolliots were gathered in the
schoolroom, and Ger was in disgrace.

The twins were back from school, and that afternoon they had unbent
sufficiently to take part in a representation of "Sherlock Holmes" in
the hall. The whole family, with the exception of the Kitten, had seen
the play in the Artillery Theatre at Woolwich during their last visit
to grandfather.

It is a play that not only admits of, but necessitates, varied and loud
noises.

Everything ought to have gone without a hitch, for earlier in the
afternoon Mr Ffolliot had departed in the carriage to take the chair at
a lecture in Marlehouse; and a little later Grantly had driven his
mother to the station in the dogcart to meet a guest.

Unfortunately the lecture on Carpaccio at the Literary Institute was of
unusually short duration, and Mr Ffolliot returned tired and rather
cross, just as Ger was enacting the hansom cab accident at the foot of
the staircase, by beating a deafening tattoo on the Kitten's bath with
a hair-brush.

The twins and the Kitten (who had proved a wrapt and appreciative
audience) melted away with Boojum-like stealth the moment the hall door
was opened; but Ger, absorbed in the entrancing din he was making,
noticed nothing, and his father had to shake him by the shoulders
before he would stop.

"I suppose," Ger remarked thoughtfully, "that we must look upon father
as a cross."

"He certainly _is_ jolly cross," Uz murmured. "He should hear the row
we kick up at school when we've won a match, and nobody says a
syllable."

"But I mean," Ger persisted, wriggling about on his seat as though the
problem tormented him, "that if father were as nice as mother we'd be
too happy, and it wouldn't be good for us; like the people in Fairy
stories, you know, when they're too well off, misfortunes come."

"I don't think," Buz said dryly, "that we have any cause to dread
misfortunes on that score. But cheer up, Ger, it'll soon be time for
the pater to go abroad, and then nobody will get jawed for six long
weeks."

"I shouldn't mind the jawings so much or the punishments," said Ger,
after a minute's pause, "if it wasn't for mother. She minds so, she
never seems to get used to it. I'm glad she was out this
afternoon--though we did want her to see the play--but whatever will
she say when I can't go down to meet Reggie with the rest of you? And
what'll _he_ think?"

Ger's voice broke. Punishment had f