“How’s my Jenny?” said the man, timidly. “How’s my Jenny Wren, best of children, object dearest affections brokenhearted invalid?”

To which the person of the house, stretching out her arm in an attitude of command, replied with irresponsive asperity: “Go along with you! Go along into your corner! Get into your corner directly!”

The wretched spectacle made as if he would have offered some remonstrance; but not venturing to resist the person of the house, thought better of it, and went and sat down on a particular chair of disgrace.

“Oh-h-h!” cried the person of the house, pointing her little finger, “You bad old boy! Oh-h-h you naughty, wicked creature! What do you mean by it?”