"Come, Charley," said Mr. Wade, after the meal was over, and he sat leaning back in his chair, "can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma learned you last Sunday?"
Charley started off, without further invitation, and repeated, very accurately, two or three verses of a new camp-meeting hymn, that was just then very popular.
"Now let us hear you say the Commandments, Charley," spoke up the mother, well pleased at her child's performance. And Charley repeated them with only the aid of a little prompting.
"How many commandments are there?" asked the father.
The child hesitated, and then looking up at the stranger, near whom he sat, said, innocently,—
"How many are there?"
The man thought for some moments, and said, as if in doubt—
"Eleven, are there not?"
"Eleven!" ejaculated Mrs. Wade, looking towards the man in unfeigned surprise.
"Eleven!" said her husband, with more of rebuke than astonishment in his voice. "Is it possible, sir, that you do not know how many Commandments there are? How many are there, Charley? Come! Tell me; you know, of course."