“Oh, you silly boy!” cried Milly, “that isn’t a bit like a real story.”

But Aunt Emma and father and mother laughed a good deal at Olly’s story, and Aunt Emma said it would do very well for such a small boy.

Whose turn was it next?

“Father’s turn! father’s turn!” cried the children, in great glee, looking round for him; but while Olly’s story had been going on, Mr. Norton, who was sitting behind them in a big arm-chair, had been covering himself up with sofa cushions and newspapers, till there was only the tip of one of his boots to be seen, coming out from under the heap.  The children were a long time dragging him out, for he pelted them with cushions, and crumpled the newspapers over their heads, till they were so tired with laughing and struggling they had no strength left.

“Father, it isn’t fair, I don’t think,” said Milly at last, sitting a breathless heap on the floor.  “Of course little people can’t make big people do things, so the big people ought to do them without making.”

“That’s not at all good reasoning, Milly,” said Mr. Norton, who could not resist the temptation of throwing one more sofa cushion at her laughing face.  “You can’t make nurse stand on her head, but that’s no reason why nurse should stand on her head.”

Just then Olly, moving up a stool behind his father’s chair, brought his little mouth suddenly down on his father’s head, and gave him three kisses in a great hurry, with a shout of triumph at the end.

“Dear me!” said Mr. Norton, shutting his eyes and falling back as if something had happened to him.  “This is very serious.  Aunt Emma, that spell of yours is really too strong.  My poor head!  It will certainly burst if I don’t get this story out directly!  Come, jump up, children—­quick!”

Up jumped the children, one on each knee, and Mr. Norton began at once.

CHAPTER VIII

THE STORY OF BEOWULF

Once upon a time there was a great—­”

“Father,” interrupted Milly, “I shall soon be getting tired of ’Once upon a time there was a great king.’”

“Don’t cry till you’re hurt, Milly; which means, wait till I get to the end of my sentence.  Well, once upon a time there was a great—­hero.”

“What is a hero?” asked Olly.

“I know,” said Milly, eagerly, “it’s a brave man that’s always fighting and killing giants and dragons and cruel people.”

“That’ll do to begin with,” said Mr. Norton, “though, when you grow older, you will find that people can be heroes without fighting or killing.  However, the man I am going to tell you about was just the kind of hero you’re thinking of, Milly.  He loved fighting with giants and dragons and wild people, and my story is going to be about two of his fights—­the greatest he ever fought.  The name of this hero was Beowulf, and he lived in a country called Sweden (Milly knows