"Papa has promised to come home early this evening," repeated the children to each other; "we must not begin without him. Mama, do you think he will be long?"
"No, my dears, I expect him every minute; but he may be detained by business, and you must not be disappointed if he should not come as soon as you desire."
"We will try and not complain," they answered, in a tone that showed they would be much inclined to do so if they had the trial.
"You need not frighten yourselves," said their aunt; "he is now on the stairs."
The door was quickly opened for him, and he was begged to make haste and seat himself, whilst poor baby was prohibited from paying her visit to him till they had finished.
"You are expected to commence," said Mrs. Arabin, "and to puzzle the whole party."
But papa did not consider that it was at all fair he should be directly made to task himself. He reminded them that he had never seen the game played, and promised that if their mama would begin, he would speak after her.
"I am quite ready to do so," said Mrs. Macdonald; "and my first picture will show you a little child of not more than three years of age. She is laid on a bed of sickness, and the deepest anxiety may be traced in her attendants' countenances. Whispers of fear at the consequences of her death are escaping them. The child herself, had she been capable, would have been thankful for her release: she was a queen, and even at her early age, by her marriage, the nation had decreed she should secure a sister-country's interest for her own people. Her ladies in vain exert all the means that can be thought of to restore her; she was called from earth in her pure, bright innocence."
"Was her name Anne, mama?"
"No; you are thinking of Earl Warwick's daughter, who married Prince Edward, the son of Edward the Fourth, and whose dreadful, early death you all have heard of. My little bride was a young queen of Scotland."