in general, is for ever doing the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and in the wrong way. The nurse-girl, who sent Jenny to see what Tommy and Totty were doing, and "tell 'em they mustn't," knew infantile nature. Give an average baby a fair chance, and if it doesn't do something it oughtn't to, a doctor should be called in at once.
They have a genius for doing the most ridiculous things, and they do them in a grave, stoical manner that is irresistible. The business-like air with which two of them will join hands and proceed due east at a break-neck toddle, while an excitable big sister is roaring for them to follow her in a westerly direction, is most amusing—except, perhaps, for the big sister. They walk round a soldier, staring at his legs with the greatest curiosity, and poke him to see if he is real. They stoutly maintain, against all argument, and much to the discomfort of the victim, that the bashful young man at the end of the 'bus is "dadda." A crowded street corner suggests itself to their minds as a favourable spot for the discussion of family affairs at a shrill treble. When in the middle of crossing the road, they are seized with a sudden impulse to dance, and the doorstep of a busy shop is the place they always select for sitting down and taking off their shoes.
When at home, they find the biggest walking-stick in the house, or an umbrella—open preferred—of much assistance in getting upstairs. They discover that they
