"That's right; here is another lump. Miss Leigh, may I ask you to reach me a very pretty book of coloured animals I saw behind you? Now, Emma, there is a tabby cat, just like you have at home."
"No, mamma drove it away;" and, the grief returning, "Oh! where's mamma?"
"She isn't coming while you make that noise, and I fear she must be a wicked woman to drive a poor cat away,—she will never have any luck. Now, what's that?"
"A 'orse," triumphantly.
"Where were you riz! Say horse. That's right; don't forget. A pig, a sow, a goose," and so on, half through the book. "Now I'll shut it, and you can go to bed."
"No, no; see the rest," said the now excited child.
"Which would you rather have, mamma or pictures?"
"Pictures. Show them quick."
"Very well; then mamma may go to blazes. We don't want her bothering here till we have done. What did you say was the name of that animal?"
"A 'orse."