And then Jarley was awakened—­and what an awakening it was!  Not one of those peaceful comings-to that betoken the tranquil mind after a good rest, but a return to consciousness with every warlike tendency in his being aroused to the highest pitch.  Jack had passed the ball with considerable momentum on to the mantel-piece, which sent it backward on the rebound to no less a feature than the nose of the slumbering Jarley.

“What the deuce was that?” cried Jarley, sitting up straight in bed.  He had forgotten all about the football, and to his suddenly restored consciousness it seemed as if the ceiling must have fallen.  Then he rubbed his nose, which still ached from the force of the impact between itself and the ball.

“It was the ball did it, papa,” said Jack, meekly. “’Twasn’t me.”

In an instant Jarley was on the floor; and Jack, scenting trouble, incontinently fled.  The parent was angry from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, but as the soles of his feet touched the floor his anger abated.  After all, Jack hadn’t meant to hurt him, and having witnessed several games of football, he knew how innately perverse an oval-shaped affair like the ball itself could be.  Furthermore, there was Mrs. Jarley, who had disapproved of his purchase from the outset.  If he wreaked vengeance upon poor little Jack for his unwitting offence, Jarley knew that he would in a measure weaken his position in the argument of the night before.  So, instead of chastising Jack, as he really felt inclined to do, he picked up the ball, and repairing to the nursery, summoned the boy to him in his sweetest tones.

“Never mind, old chap,” he said, as Jack appeared before him.  “I know you didn’t mean it; but you must play in here until it is time for you to go out.  Papa is very sleepy, and you disturb him.”

“All right,” said Jack.  “I’ll play in here.  I forgot.”

Then Jarley patted Jack on the head, rubbed his nose again dubiously, for it still smarted from the effects of the blow it had sustained, and retired to his bed once more.  If he fondly hoped to sleep again, he soon found that his hope was based upon a most shifting foundation, for the whoops and cries and noises of all sorts, vocal and otherwise, that emanated from the next room destroyed all possibility of his doing anything of the sort.  At first the very evident enjoyment of his son and heir, as Jarley listened to his goings-on in the nursery, amused him more or less; but his quiet smile soon turned to one of blank dismay when he heard a thunderous roar from Jack, followed by a crash of glass.  Again springing from his bed, Jarley rushed into the nursery.

“Well, what’s happened now?” he asked.

Jack’s under lip curved in the manner which betokens tears ready to be shed.

“Nun-nothing,” he sobbed.  “I was just k-kicking a goal, and that picture got in the way.”