To force would only be to break. Hurry was of the devil. And
later, while Daddy played an ancient tune that was written originally
as a mazurka yet did duty now for a two-step, he danced with Mother
too, and the children paused to watch out of sheer admiration.
'Fancy, Mother dancing!' they exclaimed with glee--except Jinny, who
was just a little offended and went to stand by the piano till it was
over. For Mother danced as lightly as a child for all her pride of
measurement, and no frigate ever skimmed the waves more gracefully
than Mother glided over those uneven boards.
'The Wind and the Haystack' of course, was Monkey's description.
'You'll wind and haystack to bed now,' was the reply, as Mother sat
and fanned herself in the corner. The 'bed-sentence' as the children
called it, was always formed in this way. Whatever the child was
saying when the moment came, Mother adopted as her verb. 'Shall I put
some peat on, Mother?' became 'Peat yourself off to bed-it's nine
o'clock'--and the child was sorry it had spoken.
Good-byes had really been said at intervals all day long, and so to-
night were slight enough; the children, besides, were so 'excitey-
tired,' as Monkey put it, that they possessed no more emotion of any
kind. There were various disagreeable things in the immediate future
of To-morrow--getting up early, school, and so forth; and Cousin
Henry's departure they lumped in generally with the mass, accepted but
unrealised.
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