Wife, our children talk too much; they put their noses into everything, and criticise their own father." "Unnatural offspring!" laughed the visitor.
"And when they take up a notion, Socrates couldn't convince them to the contrary.

For instance, madam, all this morning they thought fit to assume that they were starving." "So we were," said Lysimachus, "until the angel came; and the devil went for the pie." "There--there--there! Now, you mark my words; we shall never get that idea out of their heads--" "Until," said Mrs.Woffington, lumping a huge cut of pie into Roxalana's plate, "we put a very different idea into their stomachs." This and the look she cast on Mrs.Triplet fairly caught that good, though somber personage.

She giggled; put her hand to her face, and said: "I'm sure I ask your pardon, ma'am." It was no use; the comedian had determined they should all laugh, and they were made to laugh.

Then she rose, and showed them how to drink healths _a la Francaise;_ and keen were her little admirers to touch her glass with theirs.

And the pure wine she had brought did Mrs.Triplet much good, too; though not so much as the music and sunshine of her face and voice.