FullReads

The dinner-bell released the exhausted student, and he gladly took his son’s place, looking as if he had been hard at work. He was faint with hunger, but was helped last, being ‘only a boy,’ and then checked every five minutes for eating too fast. Mamma was very meek, and only looked wistfully at the pie when told in her own words that pastry was bad for children.

Any attempts at conversation were promptly quenched by the worn-out old saying, ‘Children should be seen, not heard,’ while Harry and Kitty chattered all dinner-time, and enjoyed it to their hearts’ content, especially the frequent pecks at their great children, who, to be even with them, imitated all their tricks as well as they could.

‘Don’t whistle at table, papa;’ ‘keep your hands still mamma;’ ‘wait till you are helped, sir;’ ‘tuck your napkin well in, and don’t spill your soup, Caroline.’

Aunt Betsey laughed till her eyes were full, and they had a jolly time, though the little people had the best of it, for the others obeyed them in spite of their dislike to the new rules.

‘Now you may play for two hours,’ was the gracious order issued as they rose from table.

Mamma fell upon a sofa exhausted, and papa hurried to read his paper in the shady garden.

Usually these hours of apparent freedom were spoilt by constant calls,–not to run, not to play this or that, or frequent calls to do errands. The children had mercy, however, and left them in peace; which was a wise move on the whole, for the poor souls found rest so agreeable they privately resolved to let the children alone in their play-hours.

‘Can I go over and see Mr. Hammond?’ asked papa, wishing to use up the last half-hour of his time by a neighbourly call.

‘No; I don’t like Tommy Hammond, so I don’t wish you to play with his father,’ said Harry, with a sly twinkle of the eye, as he turned the tables on his papa.

Mr. Fairbairn gave a low whistle and retired to the barn, where Harry followed him, and ordered the man to harness up old Bill.

‘Going to drive, sir?’ asked papa, respectfully.

‘Don’t ask questions,’ was all the answer he got.

Old Bill was put into the best buggy and driven to the hall door. Papa followed, and mamma sprang up from her nap, ready for her afternoon drive.

‘Can’t I go?’ she asked, as Kitty came down in her new hat and gloves.

‘No; there isn’t room.’

‘Why not have the carryall, and let us go, too, we like it so much,’ said papa, in the pleading tone Harry often used.

Kitty was about to consent, for she loved mamma, and found it hard to cross her so. But Harry was made of sterner stuff; his wrongs still burned within him, and he said impatiently–

‘We can’t be troubled with you. The buggy is nicest and lightest, and we want to talk over our affairs. You, my son, can help John turn the hay on the lawn, and Caroline can amuse baby, or help Jane with the preserves. Little girls should be domestic.’

‘Oh, thunder!’ growled papa.

‘Aunt Betsey taught you that speech, you saucy boy,’ cried mamma, as the children drove off in high glee, leaving their parents to the distasteful tasks set them.

Mrs. Fairbairn wanted to read, but baby was fretful, and there was no Kitty to turn him over to, so she spent her afternoon amusing the small tyrant, while papa made hay in the sun and didn’t like it.

Just at tea-time the children came home, full of the charms of their drive, but did not take the trouble to tell much about it to the stay-at-home people. Bread and milk was all they allowed their victims, while they revelled in marmalade and cake, fruit and tea.

‘I expect company this evening, but I don’t wish you to sit up, Caroline; you are too young, and late hours are bad for your eyes. Go to bed, and don’t forget to brush your hair and teeth well, five minutes for each; cold cream your hands, fold your ribbons, hang up your clothes, put out your boots to be cleaned, and put in the mosquito bars; I will come and take away the light when I am dressed.’