The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest caution, held his son's
legs astride, so that they might hang on each side of the dish without touching it; 'just to satisfy him,' as he said, 'that they might dine in quiet,' and was about to withdraw him from it immediately.
But Limby was not to be cheated in that way, he wished to feel the saddle under him, and accordingly forced himself down upon it; but feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable, started, and lost his balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter, cauliflower, and gravy—floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to the detriment of glasses, jugs, dishes, and everything else on the table.
'My child! my child!' said his mamma; 'O! save my child!'
She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the bosom of her best silk gown.
Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to Limby, he was as frisky afterwards as if nothing had happened; and, about half an hour from the time of this disaster, cried for his dinner.
[5] This story and the one which follows it are not by Mrs. Fenwick. 'Limby Lumpy' is from The Holiday Book.