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Mr. Pelby was on nettles; but he dared not interfere.

“Open it,” said Tommy, endeavouring to loose the hinge of the case with his tiny thumb-nail.

“Oh, no; you mustn’t open it, Tommy.”

“Open it!” resumed Tommy, in a higher and more positive tone.

“I can’t open it,” said the mother, pretending to make an earnest effort to loose the case.

“O-pen–it!” screamed the child, in a loud angry tone.

“Here, take it to Mr. Pelby, he will open it for you.” And the watch was again intrusted to Tommy’s care, who bore it, and, as fortune would have it, safely too, to its owner.

Of course, Mr. Pelby could do no better, and so he displayed the jewels and internal arrangement of his skeleton lever to the curious gaze of the child. At first, Tommy was well pleased to look alone: but soon the ends of his fingers itched to touch, and touch he did, quite promptly; and, of course, Mr. Pelby very naturally drew back the hand that held the watch; and just as naturally did Tommy suddenly extend his and grasp the receding prize. With some difficulty, Mr. Pelby succeeded in disengaging the fingers of the child, and then hastily closing the watch, he slipped it into his pocket.

“There, it’s gone!” said he.

“Tee de watch!” replied Tommy.

“It’s gone clear off.”

“Tee de watch!” said Tommy more emphatically.

“Here, come see mine,” said the father.

“No,” replied the child, angrily.

Mr. Pelby, to quiet Tommy, now took him upon his lap, and called his attention to a large cameo breast-pin. This pleased him at once, and he amused himself with pulling at it, and sadly rumpling the visitor’s snow-white bosom. Next he began to dive into his pockets, revealing pen-knife, tooth-pick, etc. etc. This was worse than to let him have the watch; and so, as a lesser evil, the gold lever was again drawn from its hiding-place. The little fellow was once more wild with delight.

But Pelby was so evidently annoyed, that Mr. Little could not help observing it; and he at length said to his wife–

“Hadn’t you better take Tommy up-stairs, my dear? He is too troublesome.”

Mr. Pelby had it on his tongue’s end to say, “Oh, no, he don’t trouble me at all!” But he was afraid–not to tell a falsehood–but that the child would be suffered to remain; so he said nothing.

“Come, Tommy,” said Mrs. Little, holding out her hands.

“No!” replied the child emphatically.

“Come.”

“No!” still louder and more emphatic.

“Yes, come, dear.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, but you must!” Mrs. Little said, taking hold of him.

At this, Tommy clung around the neck of Mr. Pelby, struggling and kicking with all his might against the effort of his mother to disengage him; who finally succeeded, and bore him, screaming at the top of his voice, from the room.

“If that were my child,” said Mr. Pelby, after they had left the house, “I’d half kill him but what I’d make a better boy of him! I never saw such an ill-behaved, graceless little rascal in my life!”

“Children are children, Mr. Pelby,” quietly remarked his auditor, Mr. Manly, who had half a dozen “little responsibilities” himself.

“Hard bargains at the best, I know. But then I have seen good-behaved children; and, if parents would only take proper pains with them, all might be trained to good behaviour and obedience. If I had a child, it would act different, I know, from what that one did this evening.”

“Old bachelors’ children, you know,” Mr. Manly said, with a smile.

“O yes, I know. But silly adages don’t excuse neglectful parents,” replied Mr. Pelby, a little touched at the allusion.

“That is true, Mr. Pelby. But what I meant you to understand by the remark was, that those who have no children of their own are too often wanting in a due consideration and forbearance towards those of other people. I have quite a house full and I know that I take great pains with them, and that the true management of them costs me much serious consideration; and yet I have known some of mine to act much worse than Tommy Little did this evening.”