aid Olly, looking rather scared, as if
something he didn't quite understand was going to happen to him.

So Milly went through the operation of kissing him three times on the
back of the head, and then Olly's eyes, finding it did no good to stare
at Aunt Emma or mother, went wandering all round the room in search of
something else to help him. Suddenly they came to the window, where a
brown speck was dancing up and down, and then Olly's face brightened,
and he began in a great hurry:

"Once upon a time there was a daddy-long-legs--"

"Well," said Milly, when they had waited a little while, and nothing
more came.

"I don't know any more," said Olly.

"Oh, that _is_ silly," said Milly, "why, that isn't a story at all. Shut
your eyes tight, that's much the best way of making a story."

So Olly shut his eyes, and pressed his two hands tightly over them, and
then he began again:

"Once upon a time there was a daddy-long-legs--"

Another stop.

"Was it a _good_ daddy-long-legs?" asked Milly, anxious to help him on.

"Yes," said Olly, "that's it, Milly. Once upon a time there was a good
daddy-long-legs--"

"Well, what did he do?" asked Milly, impatiently.

"He--he--flewed on to father's nose!" said Olly, keeping his hands tight
over his eyes, while his little white teeth appeared below in a broad
grin.

"And father said, 'Who's that on my nose?' and the daddy-long-legs said,
'It's me, don't you know?' And father said, 'Get away off my nose, I
don't like you a bit.' And the daddy-long-legs said, 'I shan't go away.
It's hot on the window, the sun gets in my eyes. I like sitting up here
best.' So father took a big sofa-cushion and gave his nose _ever_ such a
bang! And the daddy-long-legs tumbled down dead. And the cushion tumbled
down dead. And father tumbled down dead. And that's all," said Olly
opening his eyes, and looking extremely proud of himself.

"Oh, you silly boy!" cried Milly, "that isn't a bit like a real story."

But Aunt Emma and father and mother laughed a good deal at Olly's story,
and Aunt Emma said it would do very well for such a small boy.

Whose turn was it next?

"Father's turn! father's turn!" cried the children, in great glee,
looking round for him; but while Olly's story had been going on, Mr.
Norton, who was sitting behind them in a big arm-chair, had been
covering himself up with sofa cushions and newspapers, till there was
only the tip of one of his boots to be seen, coming out fro