"I've made a great ass of myself," growled poor Phil. "I wish, sir, that you'd give me a thrashing, as if I were a little shaver,—a sound one; I know I deserve it."
But papa loosed Nannie's arms from about his neck, and put her gently from him. "My dear," he said wearily, "I—I—wish you would make them all go; I want to be alone."
Papa did not come down to dinner that evening, and we were a very subdued party, though Nora tried to cheer Phil up by telling him that she knew he had done what he had for the benefit of the whole family,—she didn't tell me that!
"Yes," answered our eldest brother, gloomily, "it was my first attempt at that sort of philanthropy, and it'll be my last—stop staring at me, Jack, or I'll throw a bread-pill at you."
"Is that what you call it, Philip?" said Miss Marston, lifting her eyebrows. "It seems to me more like that love of practical joking and the self-will that your mother was so constantly warning you and Betty against."
"Indeed, then, you're right, ma'am," put in nurse, who happened to be in the room, adding, with a pointed glance at me, "I wonder what the dear lady would 'a' said to this day's conductions!"
And not one of us had a word to say in reply, for we well knew how grieved she would have been.