ckly, with a garment dripping and soapy from the tub. Before he
was aware of her design, she had covered his face with it, rubbing
vigorously up and down and to and fro, with pleasant malice.

Sam struggled, gasped, and screamed; he tumbled down, and, clawing the
disagreeable application from his face, spit like a cat; while Sarah
stood over him laughing, and threatening him with another similar
experiment.

"There!" exclaimed Sam, waxing angry, "I won't work now, to pay for it!
And, if you do that again, I'll----"

Splash went the garment into his face once more, across his eyes, and
over his open mouth! It was just as he was getting up from the floor. At
that moment Mrs. Royden reappeared in the shed. She could not have
chosen a worse time. To see "such actions going on," when there was so
much work to be done, was "enough to try the temper of a saint." Her
hands must have ached, from boxing Sam's ears; her heart must have
ached, with such a storm of passion bursting it.

It seemed with a mighty effort of self-control that she refrained from
striking Sarah; but the latter, making no reply to the deep tones of her
displeasure, quietly resumed her work, and, burning, palpitating with
anger, she returned to finish preparing the children for school.

Ten minutes later, serene from his morning meditations, Father
Brighthopes came out of the parlor. His face was full of tranquil joy;
but a noise of dire confusion assailed his ear, and he paused upon the
threshold.

Lizzie, neatly dressed for school, but smarting and burning under the
pain of boxed ears, was marching sulkily out of the sitting-room, with a
satchel of books; Willie, rubbing both fists into his red eyes, was
crying grievously; and Georgie was walking very straight, with a book
under his arm, and his looks downcast, fearful and watchful, as if
momently expecting the afflictive dispensation of his mother's hand.

As soon as the children were well off, the old clergyman came forward.
Mrs. Royden was tossing the baby in her arms, and endeavoring to still
its cries. The storm was yet raging; she seemed angry with the innocent
infant even; when, looking up, she saw Father Brighthopes, with
countenance saddened and pale, stand before her.

"Will you let me take the babe? I think I may soothe it," he said, in a
very soft and earnest tone.

It was like casting oil upon raging waves. Mrs. Royden made an effort,
and appeared more calm. But only the surface of t