ble and anything like order
restored; in bringing about which happy state of things both the nurse
and footman are severely scratched. At length Mrs. Whiffler is heard to
say, 'Mr. Saunders, shall I give you some pudding?' A breathless silence
ensues, and sixteen small eyes are fixed upon the guest in expectation of
his reply. A wild shout of joy proclaims that he has said 'No, thank
you.' Spoons are waved in the air, legs appear above the table-cloth in
uncontrollable ecstasy, and eighty short fingers dabble in damson syrup.

While the pudding is being disposed of, Mr. and Mrs. Whiffler look on
with beaming countenances, and Mr. Whiffler nudging his friend Saunders,
begs him to take notice of Tom's eyes, or Dick's chin, or Ned's nose, or
Mary Anne's hair, or Emily's figure, or little Bob's calves, or Fanny's
mouth, or Carry's head, as the case may be. Whatever the attention of
Mr. Saunders is called to, Mr. Saunders admires of course; though he is
rather confused about the sex of the youngest branches and looks at the
wrong children, turning to a girl when Mr. Whiffler directs his attention
to a boy, and falling into raptures with a boy when he ought to be
enchanted with a girl. Then the dessert comes, and there is a vast deal
of scrambling after fruit, and sudden spirting forth of juice out of
tight oranges into infant eyes, and much screeching and wailing in
consequence. At length it becomes time for Mrs. Whiffler to retire, and
all the children are by force of arms compelled to kiss and love Mr.
Saunders before going up-stairs, except Tom, who, lying on his back in
the hall, proclaims that Mr. Saunders 'is a naughty beast;' and Dick, who
having drunk his father's wine when he was looking another way, is found
to be intoxicated and is carried out, very limp and helpless.

Mr. Whiffler and his friend are left alone together, but Mr. Whiffler's
thoughts are still with his family, if his family are not with him.
'Saunders,' says he, after a short silence, 'if you please, we'll drink
Mrs. Whiffler and the children.' Mr. Saunders feels this to be a
reproach against himself for not proposing the same sentiment, and drinks
it in some confusion. 'Ah!' Mr. Whiffler sighs, 'these children,
Saunders, make one quite an old man.' Mr. Saunders thinks that if they
were his, they would make him a very old man; but he says nothing. 'And
yet,' pursues Mr. Whiffler, 'what can equal domestic happiness? what can
equal the enga