Mr. Punch with the Children
WITH THE CHILDREN
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.
MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN
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MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN
AS PICTURED BY
PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, GORDON BROWNE, L. RAVEN-HILL, CHARLES PEARS, LEWIS BAUMER, DAVID WILSON, TOM BROWNE, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, C. E. BROCK, TOM WILKINSON, HILDA COWHAM, AND OTHER HUMORISTS
IN 175 ILLUSTRATIONS
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
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THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN
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EDITOR'S NOTE
In the order of our Library "Mr. Punch with the Children" comes last, yet, so continual and sincere has been the interest of the breezy little man in the children, we might well have placed this volume first. The Punch pictures, stories and jests that are concerned with the young folk are almost inexhaustible. The present collection, though containing the cream of them, comes very far indeed from reproducing them all, or even fifty per cent. For every notable artist and writer who has been much associated with Punch since 1841 has had something to say or to illustrate of the humours of child life. If genius be the power to be a child again at will, we can understand this abiding interest in the doings of the children. MR. PUNCH himself resembles Peter Pan, for he has never grown up. The years roll by, but the jolly little hunchback remains as young as ever.
The variety of individuality in the children, to whom we are here introduced, is noteworthy. In the days of Leech, downright impudence seems to have been a characteristic of the young; to-day it would seem children are better mannered, even if the enfant terrible is still thriving and likely to do so. There are nice children here, and naughty ones; clever and dull children; pretty and ugly children--the mischievous are chiefly memories of last generation! Phil May's children are all clearly of the "gutter snipe" order, in which he delighted, full of character and a somewhat pathetic humour; but how clean and sweet and lovable are Du Maurier's or Mr. Lewis Baumer's! Mr. Raven-Hill seems to be attracted somewhat in the same direction as Phil May; but all are interesting, and their sayings and doings are eminently worthy to be thus permanently gathered into one volume.
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MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN
A SERIOUS MATTER.--Grandfather (to Miss Pansy, who is somewhat flushed and excited). What's the matter, my pet?
Miss Pansy (aged eight). Oh, grandpa, me and my kitten have been having the most awful row. We've often quarrelled before and made it up again, but this time we're not on speaking terms.
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Auntie. Well, Effie, did you enjoy your party last night?
Effie. Very much, thank you, auntie.
Auntie. And I suppose mamma was there to look after you?
Effie. Oh no! Mamma and I don't belong to the same set!
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A PRECAUTIONARY MEASURE.--"Now go to school, and be a good boy. And mind you don't use any rude words!"
"Rude words! Tell me a few, mummy, and then I shall know, you know!"
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WALKING HOME FROM THE PANTOMIME.--Little Chris (who usually goes to bed very early). Mamma, have all the angels been to Drury Lane to-night?
Mamma. No, darling? Why?
Little Chris (pointing to the stars). 'Cause they've kept the lamps up there lighted so late.
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ROGUES FALLING OUT.--Mamma. What is baby crying for, Maggie?
Maggie. I don't know.
Mamma. And what are you looking so 'ndignant about?
Maggie. That nasty, greedy dog's been and took and eaten my 'punge-take!
Mamma. Why, I saw you eating a sponge-cake a minute ago!
Maggie. O--that was baby's!
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A SCIENTIFIC NURSERY DEFINITION.--Little Algy Muffin. What's the meaning of bric-a-brac, that mamma was talking about to Colonel Crumpet?
Little Chris Crumpet. Those things we mustn't play bricks with, a-fear we'll break them.
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POETRY FOR SCHOOLBOYS.--Little Tommy Tender, who received a flogging the week before his holidays, says his feelings were the contrary of those felt by the poet, when he penned the touching line--
"My grief lies onward, and my joy behind."
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JUVENILE GEOGRAPHY.--Governess. The earth moves round the sun ... it takes a whole year to complete the round ... and this accounts for the four seasons. What are the four seasons of the year, Phyllis?
Phyllis (aged five). This year, next year, sometime, never.
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"IT'S A WISE CHILD THAT KNOWS ITS OWN FATHER."--Grace. Harold, why did pa call that Mr. Blowhard a liar?
Harold. 'Cos he's smaller than pa!
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A LITTLE LEARNING.--Teacher. And who was Joan of Arc?
Scholar. Please, sir, Noah's wife.
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A LITTLE STEPMOTHER.--Uncle. Hullo! Dot, got a new doll?
Little Miss Dot. Hush, uncle, don't speak too loud. She is not one of my own, but belonged to Millie Simpson, who was cruel to her and 'bandoned her, so I have 'dopted her; but I don't want her to know, because I mean to make no difference between her and my own dollies.
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THE FORCE OF CLASSIC TEACHING.--Master. Now, boys, what is Hexham famous for?
Binks Minor. Making the hexameter, sir.
[Waits afterwards.
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PROVERBS REVISED.--"One is better than two." Mother. You are a very naughty little girl!
Little Girl (after some thought). Aren't you glad I wasn't twins, mummy?
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TRUE SENTIMENT.--"I'm writing to Mrs. Montague, Georgie--that pretty lady you used to take to see your pigs. Haven't you some nice message to send her?"
"Yes, mummie; give her my love, and say I never look at a little black pig now without thinking of her!"
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A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.--Daisy (who has been studying Chrysanthemums).--Maisy, do you know what's a Double Begonia?
Maisy (who has been studying the Classics).--"Double Big-onia"? Yes! Of course, it's the plural of one big onion.
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MAIDENLY ETIQUETTE.--Little Chris (aetat eight). I've a birthday party on Thursday, Evie. I should like you to come.
Little Evie (aetat nine). I should love to, dear.
Little Chris. But I couldn't, you know, unless you asked me to tea first.
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IN THE LIBRARY.--Tommy. How beautifully those books is binded!
Little Dot. No, Tommy, that's wrong. You mustn't say "binded"; you should say, "are bounded."
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SUPERLATIVE ASSURANCE.--Papa (To Little Chris). I can't quite understand you. Was it Mr. Jones, or Mr. David Jones, or Mr. Griffith Jones, whom you met?
Little Chris (stoutly). All I know is, it was the third eldest Mr. Jones.
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A VIRTUE OF NECESSITY.--Aunt Maria. What a good little boy to leave your little friends to come with a poor old auntie like me.
Master Douglas. Oh, mother always makes us do nasty things and things we don't like.
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MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(The Fair Weather Barometer.) This is a pleasing and simple experiment. The mercury is removed, and divided in equal portions between the cat, the parrot next door, and the interior of grandpapa's forty-guinea repeater. This may cause some local disturbance, but the barometer, relieved of undue pressure, and set at "very dry," may be relied on to indicate, without further attention, permanent fair weather.
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AT THE BOARD SCHOOL.--Inspector. Now, can any of you children state what is likely to be the future of China?
One Maiden (after a pause). Please sir, father says that China's like him.
Inspector. Like him! What do you mean?
The Maiden. Sure to be broken by the force of circumstances.
[Class dismissed immediately.
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A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE!--Miss Tomboy. Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude.
Mother. You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"?
Miss Tomboy. Well, they were rude. They called me a little cabbage (mon petit chou). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans.
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SOLILOQUY.--"I should like that engine. Can't afford it myself. They won't buy it for me at home--too soon after Christmas. Must go in and ask the girl to put it aside for me till next time I have the croup or something; then mother'll buy it me!"
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"TOO CLEVER BY HALF"
Tommy and Johnnie were boys at school, Tommy was clever, but Johnnie a fool; Tommy at lessons was sharp and bright, Johnnie could never do anything right. Genius often is known to fail; Tommy turned forger, and went to jail. Johnnie, though slow as he well could be, Plodded away and became M.P.
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THE CASE FOR THE DEFENCE.--Mother. Oh, Dicky, what terrible things you do keep in your pockets! Fancy, a dead crab!
Dicky. Well, mother, it wasn't dead when I put it there!
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HAPPY THOUGHT.--"Why, my boy, you've spelt window without an N! Don't you know the difference between a window and a widow?"
"Yes, sir. You can see through one--and--and--you can't see through the other, sir!"
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THE YOUNG IDEA AGAIN.--(SCENE--Fourth-standard room of an elementary school. Children reading.) Inspector (to the Teacher). What are they reading about?
Teacher. American Indians.
Inspector. I will ask them a few questions. (To children.) What is a Red Indian's wife called? (Many hands up). Tell me.
Scholar. A squaw, sir.
Inspector. What is a Red Indian's baby called? (Silence. At last a boy volunteers.) Well, my boy?
Boy. Please, sir, a squaker!
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[Illustration: A CAUTION TO LITTLE BOYS AT THIS FESTIVE SEASON
Mamma. "Why, my dearest Albert, what are you crying for?--so good, too, as you have been all day!"
Spoiled Little Boy. "Boo-hoo! I've eaten so--m-much be-eef and t-turkey, that I can't eat any p-p-plum p-p-pudding!"
[Oh, what a very greedy little fellow.]
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A MODERN PARIS.--Schoolmaster. Now, boys, supposing that the goddesses Diana, Venus, and Juno were to appear before you, what would you do with this apple?
Brown Minimus. Please sir, I'd eat it before they asked for it?
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A POINT UNSETTLED IN HISTORY.--Lucy (to her elder sister who has just been relating a thrilling episode in the life of William Tell). And was the little boy allowed to eat the apple afterwards?
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MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(Household ginger beer.)--Empty the kitchen spice-box, two pounds of washing soda, a pint of petroleum, and all the wine left in the dining-room decanters over night, into the cistern, and stir freely in the dark with a mop from the staircase window. When the water comes in in the morning, the whole household will be supplied from every tap for four-and-twenty hours with capital ginger beer.
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IN DISTRESS.--Mummy! Mummy! Come back! I'm frightened. Here's a horrid dog staring at me with his teeth.
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OVERHEARD AT THE ZOO.--(A fact.)--Small child (pointing to the hippopotamus). Oh, mother, look at that big frog going to have a bath!
Better-informed parent. That isn't a frog, yer silly. It's a crocydile!
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INFANT AGONIES.--Small boy. Auntie! Auntie! Has goosegogs got legs?
Auntie. No!
Small boy. Boo-hoo-hoo! then I've been and swollered--a beastie!
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INADEQUATE HOSPITALITY.--"Well, Guy, did you enjoy the party?"
"Yes, mummy; but I'm so hungry. There was only a now and then tea, you know; with no chairs, and no grace!"
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NATURE'S LOGIC.--Papa. How is it, Alice, that you never get a prize at school?
Mamma. And that your friend, Louisa Sharp, gets so many?
Alice (innocently). Ah! Louisa Sharp has got such clever parents!
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A CONSCIENTIOUS CHILD.--"Is your cold better this morning, darling?"
"I don't know. I forgot to ask nursey!"
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Tommy. I can strike a match on my trousers, like Uncle Bob. Can you, auntie?
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CONFUSED ASSOCIATIONS.--"And where did these Druids live, Tommy?"
"They lived in groves of oak."
"And in what particular ceremony were they engaged once a year?"
"Er--let me see--Oh! in kissing under the mistletoe!"
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MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(To cure a smoky chimney.) Get out on to the roof of the house with a good-sized feather bolster and eighteen-pennyworth of putty. Insert the bolster longways into the chimney, taking care to plaster it all round tightly with the putty. Now sit on it. The chimney will no longer smoke.
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THE EVIDENCE OF THE SENSES.--Mamma. How dare you slap your sister, George?
George. She kicked me when my back was turned, and hurted me very much, I can tell you!
Mamma. Where did she hurt you?
George. Well, I can't azactly say where, because--because my back was turned, and I was looking another way!
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PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE.--Son and heir (whose inquiring turn of mind is occasionally a nuisance). Say, 'pa, what's a v'cab'lary?
Father. A vocabulary, my boy--what d'you want to know that for?
Son. 'Cause I heard 'ma say she'd no idea what a tremenjous v'cab'lary you'd got, till you missed the train on Saturday!
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AT THE SUNDAY SCHOOL--Teacher. Now, Mary Brown, you understand what is meant by baptism?
Mary Brown. Oh, I know, teacher! It's what Dr. Franklin did on baby's arm last Toosday!
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YOUNG, BUT PRACTICAL.--"What! Harry! not in bed yet, and it's nine o'clock! What will papa say when he comes home?"
"Oh, papa! He'll say, 'Supper! supper! What's for supper?'"
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A REALIST IN FICTION.--"I saw a rabbit run through that hedge!"
"No, dear. It was imagination!"
"Are 'maginations white behind?"
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IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.--The new Governess. What are the comparative and superlative of bad, Berty?
Berty (the Doctor's son). Bad--worse--dead.
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A CAPITAL CHOICE.--Cousin Amy. So you haven't made up your mind yet what profession you're going to be when you grow up, Bobby.
Bobby. Well, yes! I don't exactly know what it's called, you know, but it's living in the country, and keeping lots of horses and dogs, and all that!
[Bobby's papa is a curate, with L200 a year.
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THE SICK CHILD
BY THE HONOURABLE WILHELMINA SKEGGS
A weakness seizes on my mind--I would more pudding take; But all in vain--I feel--I feel--my little head will ache. Oh! that I might alone be left, to rest where now I am, And finish with a piece of bread that pot of currant-jam. I gaze upon the cake with tears, and wildly I deplore That I must take a powder if I touch a morsel more, Or oil of castor, smoothly bland, will offer'd be to me, In wave pellucid, floating on a cup of milkless tea. It may be so--I cannot tell--I yet may do without; They need not know, when left alone, what I have been about. I long to cut that potted beef--to taste that apple-pie; I long--I long to eat some more, but have not strength to try. I gasp for breath, and now I know I've eaten far too much; Not one more crumb of all the feast before me can I touch! Susan, oh! Susan ring the bell, and call for mother, dear. My brain swims round--I feel it all--mother, your child is queer!
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Alix (aged five, to parent who has been trying to inspire her with loyal sentiments). And was the Queen weally named after me?
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PHYSICS.--"Now, George, before you go and play, are you quite sure you know the lesson Professor Borax gave you to learn?"
"O, yes, mamma!"
"Well, now, what causes heat without light?"
"Pickles!"
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Mother. Well, Dorothy, would you like your egg poached or boiled?
Dorothy (after weighing the question). Which is the most, mother?
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"A SOFT ANSWER," &c.--Mamma. You are very naughty children, and I am extremely dis-satisfied with you all!
Tommy. That is a pity, mamma! We're all so thoroughly satisfied with you, you know!
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COMPREHENSIVE.--Preceptor. Now, can any of you tell me anything remarkable in the life of Moses?
Boy. Yes, sir. He was the only man who broke all the commandments at once!
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LITTLE MISS LOGIC.--Little Dot (to Eminent Professor of Chemistry). Are you a chemist?
Eminent Professor. Yes, my dear.
L. D. Have you got a shop with lovely large, coloured bottles in the window?
E. P. No, my dear; I don't keep a shop.
L. D. Don't you? Then I suppose you don't sell Jones's Jubilee Cough Jujubes?
E. P. No, my dear, I certainly do not.
L. D. (decidedly). I don't think I ought to talk to you any more. You can't be a respectable chemist.
E. P. Why not, my dear?
L. D. 'Cos it says on the box, "Sold by all respectable chemists."
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AT THE SCHOOL TREAT.--Lady Helper (to Small Boy). Will you have some more bread-and-butter?
Small Boy. No fear, when there's kike about.
Lady Helper (trying to be kind). Cake, certainly! Will you have plum or seed?
Small Boy. Plum, in course. D'ye tike me for a canary?
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HAD HIM THERE.--Uncle Jim. Here's half a mince pie for you, Tommy. I need hardly remind a person of your classical culture that "the half is greater than the whole!"
Tommy. Quite so, uncle. But, as I'm not very hungry, I'll only take a whole one.
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AN EYE TO THE MAIN CHANCE.--The Major. You're a very nice fellow, Tommy! Don't most people tell you so?
Tommy. Yes, they does. And they often gives me something!
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"SANCTA SIMPLICITAS."--"Auntie, ought Bertie Wilson to have smiled so often at me in church?"
"No, dear. Where was he sitting?"
"Behind me."
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A DISCUSSION ON DIET.--Little Chris (to little Kate.) Does your governess get ill on mince pies?
Little Kate. I don't know! Why?
Little Chris. 'Cause mine does. At dinner to-day she said, "If you eat any more of that pastry, I know you'll be ill." So she must have been so herself.
[Conference broken up by arrival of the lady in question.
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[Illustration: "THE GENTLE CRAFT"
Preceptor (after a lecture). "Now, what are the principal things that are obtained from the earth?"
Pupil (and "disciple of Izaak Walton"). "Worms, sir!"
[Loses fifty marks!]
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[Illustration: A CONFESSION.--Day Governess. "How is it your French exercises are always done so much better than your Latin ones?"
Tommy (after considering awhile). "I don't think auntie knows Latin."
[Auntie, who was about to enter, quickly and quietly retires.]
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[Illustration: A CANDID INQUIRER
"I say, John, is there anything I haven't tasted?"
"No, sir, I think not--except water!"
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Horrified little girl (seeing her mamma in evening dress for the first time). Oh, mummy, you're never going down like that! You've forgotten to put on your top part!
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ENGLISH HISTORY.--"And who was the king who had so many wives?"
"Bluebeard!"
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ADDING INSULT TO INJURY.--"Mamma, isn't it very wicked to do behind one's back what one wouldn't do before one's face?"
"Certainly, Effie!"
"Well, baby bit my finger when I was looking another way!"
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[Illustration: "WELL OUT OF IT"
Uncle. "And you love your enemies, Ethel?"
Ethel (promptly). "Yeth, uncle."
Uncle. "And who are your enemies, dear?"
Ethel (in an awful whisper). "The dev----"
[The old gentleman doesn't see his way further, and drops the subject.]
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[Illustration: "BY PROXY".
Humorous Little Boy. "Plea' sir, will you ring the bottom bell but one, four times, sir?"
Old Gent (gouty, and a little deaf, but so fond o' children). "Bottom bell but one, four times, my boy?" (Effusively.) "Certainly, that I will!"
[In the meantime off go the boys, and, at the third peal, the irritable old lady on the ground floor----Tableau!]
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[Illustration: Sharp (but vulgar) little boy. "Hallo, missus, wot are those?"
Old Woman. "Twopence."
Boy. "What a lie! They're apples."
[Exit, whistling popular air.]
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A DIFFICULT CASE.--Mamma. You're a very naughty boy, Tommy, and I shall have to buy a whip, and give you a good whipping. Now will you be good?
Tommy (with hesitation). Shall I be allowed to keep the whip after, mammy?
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SUNDAY SCHOOLING.--Teacher. What does one mean by "Heaping coals of fire on someone's head" now, Harry Hawkins?
Harry Hawkins. Givin' it 'im 'ot, teacher!
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Auntie. Do you love the chickens, dear?
Dolly. Yes, Auntie. But I do wish this big one hadn't such a funny laugh!
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CHRONOLOGY.--Old Gentleman ("putting a few questions"). Now, boys--ah--can any of you tell me what commandment Adam broke when he took the forbidden fruit?
Small Scholar ("like a shot"). Please, sir, th'worn't no commandments then, sir!
[Questioner sits corrected.]
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AT A CHILDREN'S PARTY
DURING TEA
Yes, isn't it a pretty sight.... Oh, they're much too busy to talk at present.... Well, if you would take this cup of tea to my little girl, dear Mr. Muffett, it would be so----Yes, in the white frock.... Pray don't apologise--some tea upsets so easily, doesn't it?... Oh! I don't suppose it will show, really, and if it does.... Please, will everybody keep quite quiet for a minute or two; I haven't said my grace.... Don't you think it's unfair of nurse? She's handed me bread-and-butter twice running!... I mustn't eat sponge-cake, thank you. Bath buns are better for me than anything.... I was so ill after Christmas. They took my temperament with the barometer, and it was two hundred and six!... Oh! that's nothing. When I was ill, the doctor said mine was perfectly Norman!... Well, you might lower that candleshade a very little, perhaps, Mr. Muffett.... Ah! don't blow it out.... Throw it into the fire, quick!... It doesn't matter in the least. No; I wouldn't trouble about the other shades, thanks.... Mother, will you read me the text out of my cracker?... But if you're going to be a soldier, you oughtn't to shut your eyes when you pull a cracker.... Oh! when I'm a soldier, I needn't go to parties.
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DURING A PERFORMANCE OF PUNCH AND JUDY
A Thoughtful Child. What a dreadful thing it would be to have a papa like Punch!
A Puzzled Child. Mother, why is the man at the side so polite to Punch? He calls him "Sir"--is Punch really a gentleman?
A Good Little Girl. I do wish they would leave all the fighting out; it must set such a bad example to children.
An Appreciative Boy. Oh! I say, did you hear what the clown said then? He said something had frightened all the hair off his head except that little tuft at the top, and it turned that sky-blue!
[He goes into fits of laughter.
A Matter-of-fact Boy. Yes, I heard--but I don't believe it could.
The Child of the House. I am so glad Tip is shut up downstairs, because I'm afraid, if he'd been up here and seen Toby act, he'd have wanted to run away and go on the stage himself, and I don't think he's the sort of dog who would ever be a success, you know!
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DURING THE DANCING
Jack. I say, Mabel, you've got to dance the "Washington Post" with me.
Mabel. I can't. I've promised Teddy Thistledown.
Jack. Oh! that's all right. I swapped with him for a Nicaragua stamp.
Mabel (touched). But aren't they rare? Didn't you want it yourself?
Jack. Oh! I don't collect, you know.
George (to Ethel). They've given us the whole of "Ivanhoe" to mug up for a holiday task. Isn't it a beastly shame?
Ethel. But don't you like Scott?
George. Oh! I don't mind Scott so much. It's having to grind in the holidays that I bar.
Hester (to Roland). Shall you go to the pantomime this year?
Roland. I don't think so. I'm going to lectures at the Royal Institution instead.
Hester. That isn't as jolly as the pantomime, is it?
Roland (impartially). Not while it's going on, but a lot jollier after it's over.
Mr. Poffley (a middle-aged bachelor, who "likes to make himself useful at parties," and is good-naturedly waltzing with little Miss Chillington). Have you--er--been to many parties?
Miss Chillington (a child of the world). About the usual amount. There's generally a good deal going on just now, isn't there?
Mr. Poffley. A--I suppose so. I go out so little now that I've almost forgotten how to dance.
Miss Chillington. Then you did know once!
Mr. Poffley (completely demoralised). I--er--you would rather stop?
Miss Chillington. Oh! I don't mind going on, if it amuses you.
[Mr. Poffley feels that "children are not so grateful as they used to be for being noticed," and that it is almost time he gave up going to juvenile parties.
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AFTER SUPPER
The Hostess (returning to the drawing-room to find the centre of the floor occupied by a struggling heap of small boys, surrounded by admiring but mystified sisters). Oh! dear me, what are they doing? I'm so afraid my two boys are being too rough, Mrs. Hornblower.
Mrs. Hornblower (one of a row of complacent matrons). Oh! not at all, dear Mrs. Honeybun, they're having such fun. Your Edwin and Arthur are only trying how many boys they can pile on the top of my Tommy.
Mrs. Honeybun. Is that Tommy underneath? Are you sure he's not getting hurt?
Mrs. Horn. Oh! he thoroughly enjoys a romp. He's made himself perfectly hoarse with laughing. Just listen to him!
Mrs. Honey. What a sturdy little fellow he is! And always in such high spirits!
Mrs. Horn (confidentially). He hasn't seemed quite the thing for the last day or two, and I was doubting whether it wouldn't be better to keep him at home to-night, but he begged so hard that I really had to give way.
Mrs. Honey. So glad you did! It doesn't seem to have done him any harm.
Mrs. Horn. Quite the contrary. And indeed, he couldn't help being the better for it; you understand so thoroughly how to make children happy, dear Mrs. Honeybun.
Mrs. Honey. It's delightful of you to say so; I try my best, but one can't always----Last year we had a conjurer, and it was only when he'd begun that we found out he was helplessly intoxicated.
Mrs. Horn. How disagreeable for you! But this time everything has been quite perfect!
Mrs. Honey. Well, I really think there has been no----Good gracious! I'm sure somebody is being suffocated! Did you hear that?
[From the core of the heap proceeds a sound at which every mother's heart quakes--a smothered cough ending in a long-drawn and ominous "oo-ook."
Mrs. Horn. Depend upon it, that's whooping-cough! Tommy, come here this minute. (Tommy emerges, crimson and crowing lustily; the mothers collect their offspring in dismay). Oh! Tommy, Tommy, don't tell me it's you! It--it can't be that, dear Mrs. Honeybun; he's been nowhere where he could possibly----You naughty boy, you know you are only pretending. Don't let me hear that horrid noise again.
Tommy (injured). But, mummy, really I wasn't----
[He justifies himself by producing a series of whoops with an unmistakably genuine ring.
Mrs. Horn. I think it's only a rather severe attack of hiccoughs, dear Mrs. Honeybun; but still, perhaps--just to be on the safe side--I'd better----
[_She departs in confusion, the crowd on the stairs dividing like Red Sea waves as Tommy proclaims his approach._
Mrs. Honey (after the last guest has gone). I knew something would happen! I must say it was most inconsiderate of Mrs. Hornblower to bring that wretched little Tommy out and break up the party like this--it's not as if we were really intimate! Still, it was ridiculous of everybody else to hurry off too, as if whooping-cough was anything to be so mortally afraid of! I wasn't in the least myself, as they might have seen. But perhaps it is just as well that Edwin and Arthur had it last winter.
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READY ANSWER.--Uncle. Now, how did the mother of Moses hide him?
Niece. With a stick, uncle.
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Aunt. Why, Tommy, I've only just taken a splinter out of your hand, and now you've let pussy scratch you. How did that happen?
Tommy (who has been tampering with the cat's whiskers). Well, I was only trying to get some of the splinters out of her face!
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BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE