ostess, he would drive his hands through his shock of sandy
hair, and say, with a comical glance out of his umber eyes, "Don't
flirt, my friends. It makes a bachelor feel awkward."

And neither Mr. nor Mrs. Skratdj could help laughing.

With the little Skratdjs his measures were more vigorous. He was very
fond of children, and a good friend to them. He grudged no time or
trouble to help them in their games and projects, but he would not
tolerate their snapping up each other's words in his presence. He was
much more truly kind than many visitors, who think it polite to smile
at the sauciness and forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children
so often to "show off" before strangers. These civil acquaintances
only abuse both children and parents behind their backs, for the very
bad habits which they help to encourage.

The hot-tempered gentleman's treatment of his young friends was very
different. One day he was talking to Polly, and making some kind
inquiries about her lessons, to which she was replying in a quiet and
sensible fashion, when up came Master Harry, and began to display his
wit by comments on the conversation, and by snapping at and
contradicting his sister's remarks, to which she retorted; and the
usual snap-dialogue went on as usual.

"Then you like music?" said the hot-tempered gentleman.

"Yes, I like it very much," said Polly.

"Oh, do you?" Harry broke in. "Then what are you always crying over it
for?"

"I'm not always crying over it."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. I only cry sometimes, when I stick fast."

"Your music must be very sticky, for you're always stuck fast."

"Hold your tongue!" said the hot-tempered gentleman.

With what he imagined to be a very waggish air, Harry put out his
tongue, and held it with his finger and thumb. It was unfortunate that
he had not time to draw it in again before the hot-tempered gentleman
gave him a stinging box on the ear, which brought his teeth rather
sharply together on the tip of his tongue, which was bitten in
consequence.

"It's no use _speaking_," said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his
hands through his hair.

* * * * *

Children are like dogs, they are very good judges of their real
friends. Harry did not like the hot-tempered gentleman a bit the less
because he was obliged to respect and obey him; and all the children
welcomed him boisterously when he arrived that Christmas which we have
spoken