I hold my breath in a nervous agony.

Thank Heaven! the harsh recitation still flows on with equable loud slowness.

In happy ignorance of his offspring's antics, father is still asking, or rather ordering, the Almighty (for there is more of command than entreaty in his tone) to prosper the High Court of Parliament.

Also the Brat is now returning to his place, travelling with surprising noiseless rapidity over the Turkey carpet, dragging his shins and his feet after him.

I draw a long breath of relief, and drop my hot face into my spread hands.