"Me mammy's darling," said the little one, with innocent eyes and a pretty curve of the little mouth.
"Surely.

And what will you be when you grow up, my sunny boy ?" "A man." "Ah! and a wit, eh?
But what will you be at your work--a farmer ?" "Me be a soldier." The little face grew bright at the prospect.
"Not that, sweetheart.

If you have luck like most of us, perhaps you'll have enough fighting in your life without making it your trade to fight.

But you don't understand me yet, Willie, darling ?" The little one's father entered the room at this moment, and the opening of the door brought the sound of jumbled voices from a distant apartment.

The noisy party of Royalists apparently belonged to the number of those who hold that a man's manners in an inn may properly be the reverse of what they are expected to be at home.