_The Hostess_ (_returning to the drawing-room to find the centre of the
floor occupied by a struggling heap of small boys, surrounded by
admiring but mystified sisters_). Oh! dear me, what _are_ they doing?
I'm so afraid my two boys are being too rough, Mrs. Hornblower.
_Mrs. Hornblower_ (_one of a row of complacent matrons_). Oh! not at
all, dear Mrs. Honeybun, they're having _such_ fun. Your Edwin and
Arthur are only trying how many boys they can pile on the top of my
Tommy.
_Mrs. Honeybun._ Is that Tommy underneath? Are you sure he's not getting
hurt?
_Mrs. Horn._ Oh! he thoroughly enjoys a romp. He's made himself
perfectly hoarse with laughing. Just listen to him!
_Mrs. Honey._ What a sturdy little fellow he is! And always in such high
spirits!
_Mrs. Horn_ (_confidentially_). He hasn't seemed quite the thing for the
last day or two, and I was doubting whether it wouldn't be better to
keep him at home to-night, but he begged so hard that I really had to
give way.
_Mrs. Honey._ So glad you did! It doesn't seem to have done him any
harm.
_Mrs. Horn._ Quite the contrary. And indeed, he couldn't help being the
better for it; you understand so thoroughly how to make children happy,
dear Mrs. Honeybun.
_Mrs. Honey._ It's delightful of you to say so; I try my best, but one
can't always----Last year we had a conjurer, and it was only when he'd
begun that we found out he was helplessly intoxicated.
_Mrs. Horn._ How disagreeable for you! But this time everything has been
quite perfect!
_Mrs. Honey._ Well, I really think there has been no----Good gracious!
I'm _sure_ somebody is being suffocated! _Did_ you hear that?
[_From the core of the heap proceeds a sound at which every mother's
heart quakes--a smothered cough ending in a long-drawn and ominous
"oo-ook."_
_Mrs. Horn._ Depend upon it, that's whooping-cough! Tommy, come here
this minute. (_Tommy emerges, crimson and crowing lustily; the mothers
collect their offspring in dismay_). Oh! Tommy, Tommy, don't tell me
it's _you_! It--it can't be _that_, dear Mrs. Honeybun; he's been
nowhere where he could possibly----You naughty boy, you _know_ you are
only pretending. Don't let me hear that horrid noise again.
_Tommy_ (_injured_). But, mummy, _really_ I wasn't----
[_He justifies himself by producing a series of whoops with an
unmistakably genuine ring_.
_Mrs. Horn._ I think it's only a rather severe attack of hiccoughs, dear
Mrs. Honeybun; but still, perhaps--just to be on the safe side--I'd
better----
[_She departs in confusion, the crowd on the stairs dividing like
Red Sea waves as Tommy proclaims his approach._
_Mrs. Honey_ (_after the last guest has gone_). I knew _something_ would
happen! I must say it was _most_ inconsiderate of Mrs. Hornblower to
bring that wretched little Tommy out and break up the party like
this--it's not as if we were really _intimate_! Still, it was ridiculous
of everybody else to hurry off too, as if whooping-cough was anything to
be so mortally afraid of! I wasn't in the _least_ myself, as they might
have seen. But perhaps it _is_ just as well that Edwin and Arthur had it
last winter.
* * * * *
READY ANSWER.--_Uncle._ Now, how did the mother of Moses hide him?
_Niece._ With a stick, uncle.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ON THE FACE OF IT
_Pretty Teacher._ "Now, Johnny Wells, can you tell me what is meant by a
miracle?"
_Johnny._ "Yes, teacher. Mother says if you dun't marry new parson,
'twull be a murracle!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE DUET
_Fond Mother_ (_to young hopeful, who has been sent upstairs to a room
by himself as a punishment_). "You can come down now, Jacky."
_Young Hopeful._ "Can't. I'se singing a duet!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNCLE'S BANK HOLIDAY
"Oh, uncle, we're so glad we've met you. We want you to take us on the
roundabout, and stay on it till tea-time!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Young Masher_ (_to rival_). "I say, old, chap, I hear
you're an excellent runner. Is that true?"
_Rival_ (_eagerly_). "Rather!"
_Young Masher._ "Well, then, run home!"]
* * * * *
_Aunt._ Why, Tommy, I've only just taken a splinter out of your hand,
and now you've let pussy scratch you. How did that happen?
_Tommy_ (_who has been tampering with the cat's whiskers_). Well, I was
only trying to get some of the splinters out of her face!
* * * * *
[Illustration: FINIS]