as if we kept a school.
Whatever one does, the rest must do; whatever there is, the rest must
share; whereas, if a fellow was an only son, he would have the
whole--and by all the rules of arithmetic, one is better than a
tenth."

"And by the same rules ten is better than one," said the friend.

"Sold again," sang out Master Jack from the floor, and went head over
heels against the fender.

His brother boxed his ears with great promptitude, and went on, "Well,
I don't care; confess, sir, isn't it rather a nuisance?"

Paterfamilias's friend looked very grave, and said, quietly, "I don't
think I am able to judge. I never had brother or sister but one, and
he was drowned at sea. Whatever I have had, I have had the whole of,
and would have given it away willingly for some one to give it to. If
any one sent me grapes, I ate them alone. If I made anything, there
was no one to show it to. If I wanted to act, I must act all the
characters, and be my own audience. I remember that I got a lot of
sticks at last, and cut heads and faces to all of them, and carved
names on their sides, and called them my brothers and sisters. If you
want to know what I thought a nice number for a fellow to have, I can
only say that I remember carving twenty-five. I used to stick them in
the ground and talk to them. I have been only, and lonely, and alone,
all my life, and have never felt the nuisance you speak of."

This was a funny account; but the speaker looked so far from funny
that one of the sisters, who was very tender-hearted, crept up to him,
and said, gently--

"Richard is only joking; he doesn't really want to get rid of us. The
other day the curate said he wished he had a sister, and Richard
offered to sell us all for ninepence; but he is only in fun. Only it
is rather slow just now, and the boys get rather cross; at least, we
all of us do."

"It's a dreadful state of things," said the friend, smiling through
his black beard and moustachios. "What is to be done?"

"I know what would be very nice," insinuated the young lady.

"What?"

"If you wouldn't mind telling us a very short story till supper-time.
The boys like stories."

"That's a good idea," said Benjamin. "As if the girls didn't!"

But the friend proclaimed order, and seated himself with the girl in
question on his knee. "Well, what sort of a story is it to be?"

"Any sort," said Richard; "only not too true, if you please. I don't
like stories like tracts. There w