condition of the household under the circumstances, and his simple question makes me smile.
"Don't take any notice of him," says George indifferently (It is all very fine for him to talk); "I shall be waiting on the Parade for you to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock punctually."
"I am afraid you will have to wait," I say disconsolately: "but never mind, if we don't come, you will know it is not our fault!"
"The governor!" signals Jack, beckoning in the distance; so without waiting for farewells I hastily decamp. By-and-by the sound of music rising from the drawing-room gives us a new sensation. Never within the memory of man, certainly not within ours, has the piano's modest voice been uplifted in papa's presence; but, lo! at the magic touch of company, its long-frozen melodies stream forth, and there is a convivial, rakish, bacchanalian sound about the festivities below that lifts the hair from off our youthful heads in amazement; we should not be surprised even, if on peeping in we discovered papa affably turning over the pages of Alice's music; he may, for all we know, be drinking tea. This mildness of temper if agreeable is alarming; can he be going to have a fever or a fit? or has the sun actually melted some of the obstinacy out of his brain? Middle-aged gentlemen don't act in direct opposition to all the traditions of their past lives for nothing. If his wits would only go on softening until he is just like anybody else! I fall asleep with the cheerful tune of "Kiss me quick and go, my honey," in my ears. Somehow it seems indecent as sung before the governor.
We have all slept, risen, dressed ourselves—(of all the machines that are yearly invented for reducing labour to a minimum, why is there not one for turning us out ready dressed? Who is there that does not now and then kick against the wearisome, ever-recurring duties of the toilet?)—listened to prayers, eaten our breakfasts, and scattered hither and thither to our several pursuite
