across in the fair and avoided successfully; very gummy and warm and dirty and happy they look. If the governor could only see them! Fortune smiles on us to-day; we do not meet him in the court or in the hall or on the stairs, so we are able to retire in peace to change our dusty clothes.
"Thank goodness, there won't be a walk to-night!" says Alice, sitting down restfully in her white petticoat on the broad window-sill. Thank goodness, indeed! Walks are the plagues of our lives and the terror of our existence. I do not mean those nondescript leisurely rambles that Jack and I are partial to taking, or the saunters that Alice and Milly affect; I mean a three or four-mile race over hill and dale at the governor's heels, that leaves us with aching, blown bodies, sore hearts, and angry souls. We resort to various cowardly and sneaking devices to get out of these excursions, but altogether in vain; severe illness even and a prompt retirement to bed, avail us nothing. Papa is up to that trick, and we are promptly unearthed, dressed, and sent forth with the rest. We have even, on occasions, tried the desperate expedient of salts and senna, but even that cruel remedy failed us, for papa, believing our sufferings to be only another form of humbug, insisted on our accompanying him; therefore from that day to this, we have left Messrs. S. & S. alone.
The Adair family out a-walking is a sight to be seen. The governor leads the way, steaming on in front all alone, like a ship in full sail, while behind him his family stretch out like a pack of beagles, puffing, blowing, groaning, gasping, the elders well up to the fore, the youngsters, by reason of the shortness of their miserable little legs, straggling behind, while last of all comes Amberley, doing her duty like the Christian woman that she is, and praying that her second wind may come quickly. From time to time papa turns and surveys our scarlet and distressed countenances with a grim smile. After all, I believe he has some sense of humour, and
