"Prayer-book? I apprenticed my daughter to a dressmaker, and the first thing she made was a V. M."
"Velvet mantilla?" And so the game proceeded, the questions and answers being tossed from one to another, like ball or shuttlecock, so that the general interest was kept up.
"I think it high time we had our daily story," said Amy.
"So do I," replied her uncle; "and I commission you to tell it."
"I? oh no, uncle, I'm too young. I think the older ones should have the monopoly of that trade—I wasn't apprenticed to it."
"Not at all—you are of suitable age to be apprenticed now, so you may consider the bargain struck. Begin, my little Amy, and if you break down in the middle of your tale, I'll promise to finish it myself."
"Very well, uncle; I feel quite tempted to fail, to inveigle you into a sensible termination to a foolish story. We often invent tales in the interval at school, and I'll give you one that my schoolmates like. It is called