“So ho!” he exclaimed, “and you are there, master and missy!  I did not know it was already so late.  Grave news, my love,” he added, turning to Grandmamma; “looks like war again.  The world is trying to go too fast,” he went on, turning to his paper.  “They are actually speaking of running a new mail-coach from London which should reach Sandlingham in three days.  It is appalling,—­why, I remember when I was young it took——­”

“It is flying in the face of Providence, I should say, my dear,” interrupted Grandmamma.

The two little faces near the door grew still more solemn.  What strange words big people used!—­what could Grandpapa and Grandmamma mean?  But Grandpapa laid down his paper and looked at them again; Grandmamma too by this time was less embarrassed by her work.  The children felt that they had at last attracted the old people’s attention.

“We came, Grandpapa and Grandmamma, to wish you good-night,” began Duke.

“And to hope you will bo’f sleep very well,” added Pamela.

This little formula was repeated every evening with the same ceremony.

“Thank you, my good children,” said Grandpapa encouragingly; on which the little couple approached and stood one on each side of him, while he patted the flaxen heads.

“I may call you ‘my good children’ to-night, I hope?” he said inquiringly.

The two looked at each other.

“Bruvver has been good, sir,” said the little girl.

“Sister has been good, sir,” said the little boy.

The two heads were patted again approvingly.

“But us haven’t bo’f been good,” added the two voices together.

Grandpapa looked very serious.

“Indeed, how can that be?” he said.

There was a pause of consideration.  Then a bright idea struck little Marmaduke.

“I think perhaps it was most Toby,” he said.  “Us was running, and Toby too, and us felled down, and Toby barked, and when us got up again it was all tored.”

“What?” said Grandpapa, still very grave.

“Sister’s gown, sir.”

“My clean white gown,” added Pamela impressively; “but bruvver didn’t do it. He said so.”

“And sister didn’t do it. She said so,” stated Duke.  “But Nurse said one of us had done it.  Only I don’t think she had thought of Toby.”

“Perhaps not,” said Grandpapa.  “Let us hope it was Toby.”

“Nevertheless,” said Grandmamma, who had quite disengaged herself from her netting by this time, “Pamela must remember that she is growing a big missy, and it does not become big misses to run about so as to tear their gowns.”

Pamela listened respectfully, but Grandmamma’s tone was not alarming.  The little girl slowly edged her way along from Grandpapa’s chair to Grandmamma’s.

“Did you never tear your gowns when you were a little missy, Grandmamma?” she inquired, looking up solemnly into the old lady’s face.  Grandmamma smiled, and looked across at her husband rather slily.  He shook his head.