she is literally able to keep her eye on two people at once, or whether she makes up her mind which eye she means to look out of, and drops that one and takes up the other at a moment's notice; in short, shifts the seeing power at will; whether—but our marvellings are not worth the writing down, Plain as she is, there is yet something very unique and interesting about her—she has no children! And as she is probably the only parson's wife on record who has not half a dozen, she deserves to be chronicled as an amazing and historical fact. Greatness has its drawbacks, however, and she is not satisfied with her childless home, her husband does not like it either, and I have seen him glance at our overflowing numbers with a scarcely concealed bitter envy that sends a pang, I am sure, to the womanly heart beating so warmly under the gorgeous satin yonder, that would never be on her back if little feet were gathered about her, little voices clamouring for milk and bread and butter. And now we are walking in to dinner, and Jack, taking an unfair advantage of my proximity to him, trips me up in such wise that I take a header into my pastor's ample back, and am only saved from ignominious disgrace by the fact that the governor is too far ahead to notice the slight scuffle.
I wonder why people always feel so much more hungry on Sundays than any other day! Is it the sermon, or is it because we have kept our mouths shut so long that we have not taken in enough air? Any way, we settle to our dinner in earnest, and there is a long satisfied silence. I come to the surface first and glance around me, thinking how very like animals we all look though we do use knives and forks and dinner-napkins.
Mrs. Skipworth looks uneasy; her dress certainly is tighter than it was in the drawing-room. Surely there will be an explosion soon. There is! She lays down her knife and fork, gives a mighty sneeze—a loud crack, as of hooks and eyes being violently divorced, is heard, then she settles herself in her chair and looks relieved.
