Oh, my Lamb, how could you?'
This conversation was at breakfast, and the Lamb had been
beautifully good until every one was looking at the carpet, and
then it was for him but the work of a moment to turn a glass dish
of syrupy blackberry jam upside down on his young head. It was the
work of a good many minutes and several persons to get the jam off
him again, and this interesting work took people's minds off the
carpet, and nothing more was said just then about its badness as a
bargain and about what mother hoped for from coconut matting.
When the Lamb was clean again he had to be taken care of while
mother rumpled her hair and inked her fingers and made her head
ache over the difficult and twisted house-keeping accounts which
cook gave her on dirty bits of paper, and which were supposed to
explain how it was that cook had only fivepence-half-penny and a
lot of unpaid bills left out of all the money mother had sent her
for house-keeping. Mother was very clever, but even she could not
quite understand the cook's accounts.
The Lamb was very glad to have his brothers and sisters to play
with him. He had not forgotten them a bit, and he made them play
all the old exhausting games: 'Whirling Worlds', where you swing
the baby round and round by his hands; and 'Leg and Wing', where
you swing him from side to side by one ankle and one wrist.
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