came from the bottom of the table.
“Nurse says so, papa,” answered Allen; “I heard her telling Jock yesterday that he would never be any taller till he stood still and gave himself time.”
“Get out, will you!” was then heard from the prostrate Robert, the monster having taken care to become petrified right across his legs.
“But papa,” Janet’s voice was heard, “if Oliver Cromwell had not helped the Waldenses—”
It was lost, for Bobus and Jock were rolling over together with too much noise to be bearable; Grandmamma turned round with an expostulatory “My dears,” Mamma with “Boys, please don’t when papa is tired—”
“Jock is such a little ape,” said Bobus, picking himself up. “Father, can you tell me why the moon draws up the tides on the wrong side?”
“You may study the subject,” said the Doctor; “I shall pack you all off to the seaside in a day or two.”
There was one outcry from mother, wife, and boys, “Not without you?”
“I can’t go till Drew comes back from his outing—”
“But why should we? It would be so much nicer all together.”
“It will be horribly dull without; indeed I never can see the sense of going at all,” said Janet.
There was a confused outcry of indignation, in which waves—crabs—boats and shrimps, were all mingled together.
“I’m sure that’s not half so entertaining as hearing people talk in the evening,” said Janet.
“You precocious little piece of dissipation,” said her mother, laughing.
“I didn’t mean fine lady nonsense,” said Janet, rather hotly; “I meant talk like—”
“Like big guns. Oh, yes, we know,” interrupted Allen; “Janet does not think anyone worth listening to that hasn’t got a whole alphabet tacked behind his name.”
“Janet had better take care, and Bobus too,” said the Doctor, “or we shall have to send them to vegetate on some farm, and see the cows milked and the pigs fed.”
“I’m afraid Bobus would apply himself to finding how much caseine matter was in the cow’s milk,” said Janet in her womanly tone.
“Or by what rule the pigs curled their tails,” said her father, with a mischievous pull at the black plaited tail that hung down behind her.
And then they all rose from the table, little Barbara starting up as soon as grace was said. “Father, please, you are the Giant Queen Mab always rides!”
“Queen Mab, or Queen Bab, always rides me, which comes to the same thing. Though as to the size of the Giant—”
There was a pause to let grandmamma go up in peace, upon Mother Carey’s arm, and then a general romp and scurry all the way up the stairs, ending by Jock’s standing on one leg on the top post of the baluster, like an acrobat, an achievement which made even his father so giddy that he peremptorily desired it never to be attempted again, to the great relief of both the ladies. Then, coming into the drawing-room, Babie perched herself on his knee, and began, without the slightest preparation, the recitation of Cowper’s “Colubriad”:—
“Fast by the threshold of a door nailed fast
Three kittens sat, each kitten looked aghast.”
And just as she had with great excitement—
“Taught him never to come there no more,”
Armine broke in with “Nine times one are nine.”
It was an institution dating from the days when Janet made her first acquaintance with the “Little Busy Bee,” that there should be something, of some sort, said or shown to papa, whenever he was at home or free between dinner and bed-time, and it was considered something between a disgrace and a misfortune to produce nothing.
So when the two little ones had been kissed and sent off to bed, with mamma going with them to hear their prayers, Jock, on being called for, repeated a Greek declension with two mistakes in it, Bobus showed a long sum in decimals, Janet, brought a neat parallelism of the present tense of the verb “to be” in five languages—Greek, Latin, French, German, and English.
“And Allen—reposing on your honours? Eh, my boy?”
Allen looked rather foolish, and said, “I spoilt it, papa, and hadn’t time to begin another.”
“It—I suppose I am not to hear what till it has come to perfection. Is it the same that was in hand last time?”
“No, papa, much better,” said Janet, emphatically.
“What I want to see,” said Dr. Brownlow, “is something finished. I’d rather have that than ever so many magnificent beginnings.”
Here he was seized upon by Robert, with his knitted brow and a book in his hands, demanding aid in making out why, as he said, the tide swelled out on the wrong side of the earth.
His father did his best to disentangle the question, but Bobus was not satisfied till the clock chimed his doom, when he went off with Jock, who was walking on his hands.
“That’s too tough a subject for such a little fellow,” said the grandmother; “so late in the day too!”
“He would have worried his brain with it all night if he had not worked it out,” said his father.
“I’m afraid he will, any way,” said the mother. “Fancy being troubled with dreams of surging oceans rising up the wrong way!”
“Yes, he ought to be running after the tides instead of theorising about them. Carry him off, Mother Carey, and the whole brood, without loss of time.”
“But Joe, why should we not wait for you? You never did send us away all forlorn before!” she said, pleadingly. “We are all quite well, and I can’t bear going without you.”
“I had much rather all the chickens were safe away, Carey,” he said, sitting down by her. “There’s a tendency to epidemic fever in two or three streets, which I don’t like in this hot weather, and I had rather have my mind easy about the young ones.”
“And what do you think of my mind, leaving you in the midst of it?”
“Your mind, being that of a mother bird and a doctor’s wife, ought to have no objection.”
“How soon does Dr. Drew come home?”
“In a fortnight, I believe. He wanted rest terribly, poor old fellow. Don’t grudge him every day.”
“A fortnight!” (as if it was a century). “You can’t come for a fortnight. Well, perhaps it will take a week to fix on a place.”
“Hardly, for see here, I found a letter from Acton when I came in. They have found an unsophisticated elysium at Kyve Clements, and are in raptures which they want us to share—rocks and waves and all.”
“And
