I shall fondly hope that not all in vain
Have been the glad labours of my pen.
THE OWL.
“Oh, dear Tom!” said Grace, in a low voice to her brother, “here we have sat as still as mice for such a long time. I am so tired!”
“Let us go into the hall, then,” said Tom.
“But will not mamma’s friends think us rude to leave the room?” said Grace.
“Oh, I dare say not,” said Tom; “but I will go and ask mamma.”
Mrs. Moore gave them leave to do as they wished, and Tom and Grace were soon in the hall.
“Come, Grace,” said her brother, as he led her to the glass-door which looked on to the lawn, “what say you to a race down the broad path, and back through the nut-walk?”
“No, thank you,” said she, as she drew back; “it is so dark in the nut-walk, I do not wish to go near it.”