"I want you to elaborate it a little and send it to The Young People's Journal," Mrs. Morrison said.
Miss Sherwin shook her head, but Miss Moore declared she would see that it was done.
Peterkin, who had been completely forgotten in the interest of the story, created a sensation just here by catching one of his sharp lower teeth in his frill, thereby causing temporary lockjaw. He was promptly released by Miss Moore, who declared he should not be dressed up again.
After he had gone into seclusion under the sofa, and the rest of the company were eating grapes and apples, Mr. Clark took down the Toby jug from the mantel shelf.
"It seems hardly right to tell another story to-night after the beautiful one we have listened to," he said, "but this is a very short one, and I promised Frances. This brown ware is called Rockingham, and you see how the likeness of a very fat old gentleman is embossed upon it. It is said that there once lived a jolly toper named Toby Fillpot. In the course of time he died and was buried, and then, according to an old drinking song:—
| "'His body when long in the ground it had lain, |
| And time into clay had resolved it again, |
| A potter found out in its covert so snug, |
| And from part of fat Toby he formed this brown jug.' |
"In fact, I believe he made a number of them, and dedicated them to friendship, mirth, and mild ale."
"It seems to suggest Dickens; doesn't he somewhere mention a Toby jug?" asked Mrs. Morrison.
"I don't remember, but it is likely," answered Mr. Clark.