At last he tired of the glittering toy, and returned to annoy Mrs. Little; but she was saved by the appearance of a servant with fruit and cakes.

“Dim me cake! dim me cake!” cried Henry, seizing hold of the servant’s clothes, and pulling her so suddenly as almost to cause her to let fall the tray that was in her hands.

To keep the peace, Henry was helped first of all to a slice of pound-cake.

“Mo’ cake,” he said, in a moment or two after, unable to articulate with any degree of distinctness, for his mouth was so full that each cheek stood out, and his lips essayed in vain to close over the abundant supply within.  Another piece was given, and this disappeared as quickly.  Then he wanted an apple, and as soon as he got one, he cried for a second and a third.  Then—­

But we will not chronicle the sayings and doings of little Henry further; more than to say, that he soon, from being allowed to sit up beyond the accustomed hour, grew fretful and exceedingly troublesome, preventing all pleasant intercourse between the visitors and visited, and that at nine o’clock he was carried off screaming to his bed.

“If that were my child,” said Mr. Little, pausing at his own door, and turning round to Mr. and Mrs. Manly, who had accompanied his wife thus far on their way home, “I would teach him better manners, or I would half kill him.  I never saw such an ill-conditioned little imp in my life!”

“Children are children, you know,” was Mr. Manly’s quiet reply.

“Yes, but children may be made to behave, if any pains at all be taken with them.  It is really unpardonable for any one to let a child like that worry visitors as he did us this evening.”

“Few children of his age, Mr. Little, unless of a remarkably quiet and obedient disposition, are much better than Pelby’s little boy.”

“As to that, Mr. Manly,” broke in Mrs. Little, “there’s our Tommy, a fine boy of twelve, as you know.  He never acted like that when he was a child.  I never had a bit of trouble with him when we had company.  We could bring him down into the parlour when he was of Henry Pelby’s age, and he would go round and kiss all the ladies so sweetly, and then go off to bed, like a little man, as he was.”

“Ah, Mrs. Little, you forget,” said Mr. Manly, laughing.

“Oh, no, indeed, Mr. Manly.  I don’t forget these things.  We could do any thing with Tommy at his age, and it was because we managed him rightly.  You can do any thing with children you please.”

“Indeed, then, Mrs. Little, it is more than I can say,” remarked Mrs. Manly.  “If my children could be made any thing at all of, they would have been different from what they are; and yet, I believe,” she added, with a feeling of maternal pride, “they are not the worst children I have ever seen.”

“Good-nights” were now exchanged, and, after Mr. and Mrs. Manly had walked a few steps, the former said,