The father and mother laughed. A solemn priggish little voice answered:
“Oh, no, Johnny. Don’t you know what day this is? This is the Sabbath-day.”
“The dear boy!” sighed his mother.
“That boy is too good to live,” responded the father.
Hugh was shown into the dining-room, where the table was already laid for dinner. It was evident that the Appleditches were well-to-do people. The room was full of what is called handsome furniture, in a high state of polish. Over the chimney-piece hung the portrait of a preacher in gown and bands, the most prominent of whose features were his cheeks.
In a few minutes the host and hostess entered, followed by a pale-faced little boy, the owner of the voice of reproof.
“Come here, Peetie,” said his mother, “and tell Mr. Sutherland what you have got.” She referred to some toy—no, not toy, for it was the Sabbath—to some book, probably.
Peetie answered in a solemn voice, mouthing every vowel:
“I’ve got five bags of gold in the Bank of England.”
“Poor child!” said his mother, with a scornful giggle. “You wouldn’t have much to reckon on, if that were all.”