"Does he, Joachim? Let me see you walk like him, my dear."
Joachim stepped boldly enough into the middle of the room, and drew himself up; but a sudden consciousness of his extreme inferiority to the soldier's son, both in figure, manner and mode of walking, made him feel quite sheepish. There was a pause of expectation.
"Now then!" said Joachim's Mother.
"I cannot walk like him, Mother," said Joachim.
"Why not?"
"Because he walks so very well!"
"Oh,"—said Joachim's Mother.
There was another pause.
"Come, Joachim," continued the Widow, "I am very anxious to admire you as much as your Aunt does. You are not tired; let us have some more exhibitions. You gave us a song just now horribly out of tune, and with the screeching voice of a bagpipe."
"I was singing like Tom Smith," interrupted Joachim.