hurricane, and a
pleasant female voice was heard.

"I say, Bob, that's the missus," whispered Tim through a knot-hole.

Then there came another squall, which seemed to drive madly about all
the echoes in the corridors above and in the cellars below. Again the
noise ceased, and there came up a sound like a wheezy squeak.

"I say, Tim, that's the old 'un," whispered Bob through the knot-hole.

Bob was right, for immediately on the wheezy squeak ceasing, the
hurricane burst forth in reply:

"Yes, mother, that's just what I shall do. You're always right. I
never knew such an old thing for wise suggestions! I'll set both boys
to milk the cows after breakfast. The sooner they learn the better, for
our new girl has too much to do in the house to attend to that; besides,
she's either clumsy or nervous, for she has twice overturned the
milk-pail. But after all, I don't wonder, for that red cow has several
times showed a desire to fling a hind-leg into the girl's face, and
stick a horn in her gizzard. The boys won't mind that, you know. Pity
that Martha's too small for the work; but she'll grow--she'll grow."

"Yes, she'll grow, Franky," replied the old lady, with as knowing a look
as if the richest of jokes had been cracked. The look was, of course,
lost on the boys above, and so was the reply, because it reached them in
the form of a wheezy squeak.

"Oh! I say! Did you ever! Milk the keows! On'y think!" whispered
Bob.

"Ay, an' won't I do it with my mouth open too, an' learn 'ow to send the
stream up'ards!" said Tim.

Their comments were cut short by the breakfast-bell; at the same time
the hurricane again burst forth:

"Hallo! lads--boys! Youngsters! Are you up?--ah! here you are.
Good-morning, and as tidy as two pins. That's the way to get along in
life. Come now, sit down. Where's Martha? Oh! here we are. Sit
beside me, little one."

The hurricane suddenly fell to a gentle breeze, while part of a chapter
of the Bible and a short prayer were read. Then it burst forth again
with redoubled fury, checked only now and then by the unavoidable
stuffing of the vent-hole.

"You've slept well, dears, I hope?" said Mrs Merryboy, helping each of
our waifs to a splendid fried fish.

Sitting there, partially awe-stricken by the novelty of their
surroundings, they admitted that they had slept well.

"Get ready for work then," said Mr Merryboy, through a rather large
mouthful. "No time to lose. Eat--