"

But in defiance of her remonstrance, the stirring strains continued,
till suddenly through the clamour a tiny shrill voice made itself heard.

"Let Towzer sing, let Towzer sing," it pleaded. "Towzer wants to sing
all be-lone."

There was a rush in the three-year-old baby's direction.

"Sing, of course she shall, the darling!" cried Maggie, the
"Jack-in-the-middle" of the five little sisters, and the first to reach
the small aspirant to vocal honours. "She shall stand on the table," she
continued, struggling breathlessly with "Towzer," as she tried to lift
her in her arms, "and----"

"Out of the way, Maggie. Out of the way, Flop!" shouted Jack, charging
down ruthlessly on to the little girls, sending Maggie to the
right-about and Flop to the left. "You are not to try to lift Towzer,
Maggie; mother has said so, ever so many times. You'll be dropping her
and smashing her to pieces some day, the way you smashed Lady
Rosalinda--you're far too little. There now, Towzer, my pet," as he
safely established her on the sturdy wooden table; "sing, and we'll all
clap."

Maggie retreated resentfully, muttering as she did so, "I'm not
little--I'm seven; and Towzer isn't made of wax."

"Silence," shouted Jack, and the baby began her song.

"Miss Tammel are coming out of L. D.," she began. Shouts of laughter.

"Go on, darling; that's beautiful. Clap, clap, can't you! She thinks
we're laughing at her," said Jack, the latter part of his speech an
"aside" to the audience.

But it was too late; Towzer's feelings were deeply wounded.

"Towzer won't sing no more, naughty Jack, and naughty Patty, and Edith,
and naughty all boys and girls to laugh at Towzer," she cried, her very
blue eyes filling with tears. She was such a pretty little girl, "fair,
fair, with" not "golden," I should rather say, "silvern hair," so very
pale were the soft silky locks that clustered round her little head. How
she ever came to be called "Towzer," her real name being Angela, would
have puzzled any one unused to the extraordinary things invented by
children's brains, and the queer grotesque charm which the "rule of
contrary," especially as applied to nicknames, seems to possess for
them.

Towzer's tears flowed piteously; everybody at once was trying to console
her, and poor Towzer was all but suffocated among them, when there came
a sudden interruption--a maid servant appeared at the door.

"Master Jack and Master Max," she said as soon as she cou