"We want a good, respectable private chaplain, to keep the young ones still," quietly remarked Sarah.
"You used to be just like them," said her mother. "If you'd do half as much for them as I have done for you, there wouldn't be much trouble with them."
"How does that fit?" slyly asked James, pinching his sister's elbow.
"Samuel Cone!" exclaimed Mrs. Royden, sternly; "take your plate and go away from the table!"
"Why, what has he done now?" inquired her husband.
"He put a piece of potato in Willie's neck. Samuel, do you hear?"
"Yes 'm," said Sam, giggling and preparing to obey.
Willie had laughed at first at the tickling sensation, but now he began to cry.
"It's gone clear down!" he whined, pressing his clothes tight to his breast. "You old ugly—"
He struck at Sam, just as the latter was removing from the table. The consequence was, Sam's plate was knocked out of his hand and broken in pieces on the floor. The lad saw Mrs. Royden starting from her chair, and ran as if for his life.