“If the—­hm—­would send its children to the garden at the first opportunity, he would be delighted, absolutely charmed, to introduce them in the world.  He would put them in the way of everything, and see that they were properly attended to.  There was nothing he couldn’t or wouldn’t do.

“This last pretentious brag seemed to have exhausted even the lob-worm’s ingenuity, for, soon after he had uttered it, he shuffled away out of the meadow in the best fashion that he could, leaving the ‘something’ in the field in a state of wondering regret.  But it recovered its spirits again when the time came for sending its children to the favoured garden abode.

“‘My dears,’ it said, ’you will soon have to begin life for yourselves, and I hope you will do so with credit to your bringing up.  I hope you are now ambitious enough to despise the dull old plan of dropping contentedly down, just where you happen to be, or waiting for some chance traveller (who may never come) to give you a lift elsewhere.  That paradise of happiness, of which the lob-worm told us, is close at hand.  Come! it only wants a little extra exertion on your part, and you will be carried thither by the wind, as easily as the wandering Dandelion himself.  Courage, my dears! nothing out of the common is ever gained without an effort.  See now! as soon as ever a strong breeze blows the proper way, I shall shake my heads as hard as ever I can, that you may be off.  All the doors and windows are open now, you know, and you must throw yourselves out upon the wind.  Only remember one thing, when you are settled down in the beautiful garden, mind you hold up your heads, and do yourselves justice, my dears.’

“The children gave a ready assent, of course, as proud as possible at the notion; and when the favourable breeze came, and the maternal heads were shaken, out they all flew, and trusted themselves to its guidance, and in a few minutes settled down all over the beautiful garden, some on the beds, some on the lawn, some on the polished gravel-walks.  And all I can say is, happiest those who were least seen!”

“Grass weeds! grass weeds!” shouted the incorrigible No. 5, jumping up from his seat and performing two or three Dervish-like turns.

“Oh, it’s too bad, isn’t it, Aunt Judy,” cried No. 6, “to stop your story in the middle?”

Whereupon Aunt Judy answered that he had not stopped the story in the middle, but at the end, and she was glad he had found out the meaning of her—­hm—!

But No. 6 would not be satisfied, she liked to hear the complete finish up of everything.  “Did the ‘HUM’S’ children ever grow up in the garden, and did they ever see the lob-worm again?”

“The—­hm’s—­children did spring up in the garden,” answered Aunt Judy, “and did their best to exhibit their beauty on the polished gravel-walks, where they were particularly delighted with their own appearance one May morning after a shower of rain, which had made them more prominent than usual.  ‘Remember our mother’s advice,’ cried they to each other.  ’This is the happy moment!  Let us hold up our heads, and do ourselves justice, my dears.’