ocking ceases, and a voice, sweetly
reassuring in its gentle plaintiveness, asks meekly:

"Pa, may I get up?"

You do not hear the other voice, but the responses are:

"No, it was only the bath--no, she ain't really hurt,--only wet, you
know. Yes, ma, I'll tell 'em what you say. No, it was a pure accident.
Yes; good-night, papa."

Then the same voice, exerting itself so as to be heard in a distant part
of the house, remarks:

"You've got to come upstairs again. Pa says it isn't time yet to get
up."

You return to bed, and lie listening to somebody being dragged upstairs,
evidently against their will. By a thoughtful arrangement the spare
rooms at "Beggarbush" are exactly underneath the nurseries. The same
somebody, you conclude, still offering the most creditable opposition, is
being put back into bed. You can follow the contest with much
exactitude, because every time the body is flung down upon the spring
mattress, the bedstead, just above your head, makes a sort of jump; while
every time the body succeeds in struggling out again, you are aware by
the thud upon the floor. After a time the struggle wanes, or maybe the
bed collapses; and you drift back into sleep. But the next moment, or
what seems to be the next moment, you again open your eyes under the
consciousness of a presence. The door is being held ajar, and four
solemn faces, piled one on top of the other, are peering at you, as
though you were some natural curiosity kept in this particular room.
Seeing you awake, the top face, walking calmly over the other three,
comes in and sits on the bed in a friendly attitude.

"Oh!" it says, "we didn't know you were awake. I've been awake some
time."

"So I gather," you reply, shortly.

"Pa doesn't like us to get up too early," it continues. "He says
everybody else in the house is liable to be disturbed if we get up. So,
of course, we mustn't."

The tone is that of gentle resignation. It is instinct with the spirit
of virtuous pride, arising from the consciousness of self-sacrifice.

"Don't you call this being up?" you suggest.

"Oh, no; we're not really up, you know, because we're not properly
dressed." The fact is self-evident. "Pa's always very tired in the
morning," the voice continues; "of course, that's because he works hard
all day. Are you ever tired in the morning?"

At this point he turns and notices, for the first time, that the three
other children have also entered, and are s