born in 1813 or 1814; so Johnnie did them
both. 'The principal thing's muck _as_ these here _airly_ tates
require.' You see the first Napoleon, looking across the Channel at
Britannia with the boot: he says, 'I hate white cliffs,' which means
Trafalgar; and 'I cry, Jam satis,' father has just invented for Charles,
that King of Spain who was Emperor of Germany too. You can see by it
that he abdicated in 1556. Miss Crampton used to wonder at our having
become so clever with our dates all on a sudden. And there's one that
Mr. Brandon made. You see those ships? That is a picture of Boston
harbour (Cray's Boston). If you were nearer, you could see them pouring
something over their sides into the water, using the harbour for a
teapot. On their pennons is written, 'Tea _of_ King George's _own_
making.' Oh, Cray! what is that noise?" Silence, a crunching of decided
step coming on fast and firmly; the faces of the party fell.

"It's all up!" sighed Crayshaw.

Somebody shook the door at the foot of the stairs; then a voice rang
through the place like a silver trumpet, "Johnnie."

"Yes, father," answered Johnnie in the loud, melancholy tone not
unfrequently used by a boy when he succumbs to lawful authority.

"What are you about, sir? What are you thinking of? Come down this
moment, and open the door."

One of the little boys had been already dispatched down-stairs, and was
turning the key. In another instant John Mortimer, coming quickly up
beheld the party seated on the floor, looking very foolish, and Mrs.
Walker in his throne laughing. Crayshaw got up to present himself, and
take the blame on his own shoulders, and John was so much surprised to
find Emily present, and perhaps aiding, that he stopped short in his
inquiry how they had dared to bring him home when he was so busy, and
observing the ridiculous side of the question, sat down at once, and
laughed also, while she said something by way of excuse for them, and
they made the best defence they could.

Emily had the little Anastasia in her arms; the child, tired of
inaction, had fallen asleep, with her delicate rosy cheek leaning
against Emily's fair throat.

John felt the beauty of the attitude, and perceived how Emily's presence
gave completeness to the group.

Much too young to be the mother of the elder children, there was still
something essentially mother-like in all her ways. His children,
excepting the one asleep in her arms, were all grouped on the floor