BILL THE MINDER
biting their nails to the quick, and tearing their hair or anything else they could get hold of.
The time now arrived for the great annual Minding Tournament, held by the Duke to celebrate his birthday, to which every one had been looking forward all through the year. Few people have ever been so delighted over being born as was the Duke, and this was how he most liked to show his joy and thankfulness. The prizes and cups were usually subscribed for by the mothers and fathers, but this year was a very special occasion, for the Duke, having arrived at the age of sixty, had decided to present a gold-mounted feeding-bottle to be competed for during the tournament.
Everybody was there; the Duke and his Duchess with a handsome bouquet of marigolds and groundsel, presented by the wives of the policemen; the Duchess's cousin, the chatty old Viscount, and his sweet young wife; the stout old Marquis who (as every lady knows) is also admiral of the Regent's Canal, and his six oldmaid daughters, who all arrived in bath chairs. The general was there, as a matter of course, with all his medals beautifully polished, and his pockets full of Pontefract cakes and peardrops to throw to the children. At least twelve bishops were present, besides the vicar and his eight kind curates, who made themselves extremely pleasant to every one.
All the mothers and fathers of the neighbourhood were present, and minders were continually arriving
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