I retire to the school-room, and regale my brethren with lively representations of father's unexampled benignity.

I also resume with Algy the argument about _tongs_, at the very point where I had dropped it.

It lasts till prayer-time; and its monotony is relieved by personalities.

The devil in the boys is fairly quiescent to-night, and our evening devotions pass over with tolerable peace; the only _contretemps_ being that the Brat, having fallen asleep, remains on his knees when "Amen" raises the rest of the company from theirs, and has to be privily and heavily kicked to save him from discovery and ruin.
Having administered the regulation embrace to father, and heartily kissed mother--not but what I shall see her again; she always comes, as she came when we were little, to kiss us in bed--I turn to find Sir Roger holding open the swing-door for us.
"Are you quite sure about it to-night ?" I say, stretching out my hand to him to bid him good-night.

"_Ours_ on the right--_yours_ on the left--do you see ?" "_Yours_ on the right--_mine_ on the left," he repeats, "Yes--I see--I shall make no more mistakes--unless I make one on purpose." "Do not come without telling us beforehand!" I cry, earnestly.