was a ghost in her
room; but that was in Harry's time, the heroic age of the May nursery.

He accepts a pipe, and his greater height raises it into a favourable
current of air--the glistening balloon sails off. It flies, it soars;
no, it is coming down! The children shout at it, as if to drive it up,
but it wilfully descends--they rush beneath, they try to waft it on high
with their breath--there is a collision between Mary and Blanche--Aubrey
perceives a taste of soapy water--the bubble is no more--it is vanished
in his open mouth!

Papa himself has taken a pipe, and the little ones are mounted on
chairs, to be on a level with their tall elders. A painted globe is
swimming along, hesitating at first, but the dancing motion is tending
upwards, the rainbow tints glisten in the sunlight--all rush to assist
it; if breath of the lips can uphold it, it should rise, indeed!
Up! above the wall! over Mrs. Richardson's elm, over the topmost
branch--hurrah! out of sight! Margaret adds her voice to the
acclamations. Beat that if you can, Mary! That doubtful wind keeps yours
suspended in a graceful minuet; its pace is accelerated--but earthwards!
it has committed self-destruction by running foul of a rose-bush. A
general blank!

"You here, Ethel?" said Norman, as the elders laughed at each other's
baffled faces.

"I am more surprised to find you here," she answered.

"Excitement!" said Norman, smiling; "one cause is as good as another for
it."

"Very pretty sport," said Dr. May. "You should write a poem on it,
Norman."

"It is an exhausted subject," said Norman; "bubble and trouble are too
obvious a rhyme."

"Ha! there it goes! It will be over the house! That's right!" Every one
joined in the outcry.

"Whose is it?"

"Blanche's--"

"Hurrah for Blanche! Well done, white Mayflower, there!" said the
doctor, "that is what I meant. See the applause gained by a proud bubble
that flies! Don't we all bow down to it, and waft it up with the whole
force of our lungs, air as it is; and when it fairly goes out of sight,
is there any exhilaration or applause that surpasses ours?"

"The whole world being bent on making painted bubbles fly over the
house," said Norman, far more thoughtfully than his father. "It is a
fair pattern of life and fame."

"I was thinking," continued Dr. May, "what was the most unalloyed
exultation I remember."

"Harry's, when you were made dux," whispered Ethel to her brother.

"Not mine," said Nor