“And what do you do with yourself when you have got your learning by heart, you silly child?”

“Why then, my dear,” said the cherub, after a little consideration, “I suppose I die.”

“You are a very bad boy,” retorted Bella, “to talk about dismal things and be out of spirits.”

“My Bella,” rejoined her father, “I am not out of spirits. I am as gay as a lark.” Which his face confirmed.

“Then if you are sure and certain it’s not you, I suppose it must be I,” said Bella; “so I won’t do so any more. John dear, we must give this little fellow his supper, you know.”

“Of course we must, my darling.”

“He has been grubbing and grubbing at school,” said Bella, looking at her father’s hand and lightly slapping it, “till he’s not fit to be seen. O what a grubby child!”