"
Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his
"companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection,
has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a little sister
who is passing. Howls ensue.
A nicely-mannered youth!
"You will have to behave yourself with _me_, young man!" I warn him,
in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the least.
"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
rejoinder. "Our Governesses never--"
"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I have
time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the precise
age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't know
himself.
The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One is
about eight, the other not more than six.
"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to know.
Thank Heaven, _they_ are not my pupils!
Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying--
"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE, _if_
HERBIE _and_ JACK _could be taught too!_ And after lessons you will
be able to take them such nice long walks in the neighbourhood! It's
really very pretty country, Mr.--I forget your name."
Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She _is_ very
uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her--or her precious
offspring! But was I? Time must show.
[Illustration: SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.
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