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The hot-tempered gentleman’s umber eyes had been looking over the top of his newspaper at them for some time, before he called, “Harry, my boy!”

And Harry came up to him.

“Shew me your tongue, Harry,” said he.

“What for?” said Harry; “you’re not a doctor.”

“Do as I tell you,” said the hot-tempered gentleman; and as Harry saw his hand moving, he put his tongue out with all possible haste. The hot-tempered gentleman sighed. “Ah!” he said in depressed tones; “I thought so!–Polly, come and let me look at yours.”

Polly, who had crept up during this process, now put out hers. But the hot-tempered gentleman looked gloomier still, and shook his head.

“What is it?” cried both the children. “What do you mean?” And they seized the tips of their tongues in their fingers, to feel for themselves.

But the hot-tempered gentleman went slowly out of the room without answering; passing his hands through his hair, and saying, “Ah! Hum!” and nodding with an air of grave foreboding.

Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned back, and put his head into the room. “Have you ever noticed that your tongues are growing pointed?” he asked.

“No!” cried the children with alarm. “Are they?”

“If ever you find them becoming forked,” said the gentleman in solemn tones, “let me know.”

With which he departed, gravely shaking his head.

In the afternoon the children attacked him again.

“Do tell us what’s the matter with our tongues.”

“You were snapping and squabbling just as usual this morning,” said the hot-tempered gentleman.

“Well, we forgot,” said Polly. “We don’t mean anything, you know. But never mind that now, please. Tell us about our tongues. What is going to happen to them?”

“I’m very much afraid,” said the hot-tempered gentleman, in solemn, measured tones, “that you are both of you–fast–going–to–the.”

“Dogs?” suggested Harry, who was learned in cant expressions.

“Dogs!” said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his hands through his hair. “Bless your life, no! Nothing half so pleasant! (That is, unless all dogs were like Snap, which mercifully they are not.) No, my sad fear is, that you are both of you–rapidly–going–to the Snap-Dragons!”

And not another word would the hot-tempered gentleman say on the subject.

CHRISTMAS EVE.

In the course of a few hours Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj recovered their equanimity. The punch was brewed in a jug, and tasted quite as good as usual. The evening was very lively. There were a Christmas tree, Yule cakes, log, and candles, furmety, and snap-dragon after supper. When the company was tired of the tree, and had gained an appetite by the hard exercise of stretching to high branches, blowing out “dangerous” tapers, and cutting ribbon and pack-thread in all directions, supper came, with its welcome cakes and furmety and punch. And when furmety somewhat palled upon the taste (and it must be admitted to boast more sentiment than flavor as a Christmas dish), the Yule candles were blown out and both the spirits and the palates of the party were stimulated by the mysterious and pungent pleasures of snap-dragon.

Then, as the hot-tempered gentleman warmed his coat-tails at the Yule-log, a grim smile stole over his features as he listened to the sounds in the room. In the darkness the blue flames leaped and danced, the raisins were snapped and snatched from hand to hand, scattering fragments of flame hither and thither. The children shouted as the fiery sweetmeats burnt away the mawkish taste of the furmety. Mr. Skratdj cried that they were spoiling the carpet; Mrs. Skratdj complained that he had spilled some brandy on her dress. Mr. Skratdj retorted that she should not wear dresses so susceptible of damage in the family circle. Mrs. Skratdj recalled an old speech of Mr. Skratdj on the subject of wearing one’s nice things for the benefit of one’s family, and not reserving them for visitors. Mr. Skratdj remembered that Mrs. Skratdj’s excuse for buying that particular dress when she did not need it, was her intention of keeping it for the next year. The children disputed as to the credit for courage and the amount of raisins due to each. Snap barked furiously at the flames; and the maids hustled each other for good places in the doorway, and would not have allowed the man-servant to see at all, but he looked over their heads.