Graham groaned.
"Papa, what is the matter ?" she whispered.
"You had better ask him, Polly." "Is he hurt ?" (groan second.) "He makes a noise as if he were," said Mr.Home.
"Mother," suggested Graham, feebly, "I think you had better send for the doctor.

Oh my eye!" (renewed silence, broken only by sighs from Graham.) "If I were to become blind---- ?" suggested this last.
His chastiser could not bear the suggestion.

She was beside him directly.
"Let me see your eye: I did not mean to touch it, only your mouth; and I did not think I hit so _very_ hard." Silence answered her.

Her features worked,--"I am sorry; I am sorry!" Then succeeded emotion, faltering; weeping.
"Have done trying that child, Graham," said Mrs.Bretton.
"It is all nonsense, my pet," cried Mr.Home.
And Graham once more snatched her aloft, and she again punished him; and while she pulled his lion's locks, termed him--"The naughtiest, rudest, worst, untruest person that ever was." * * * * * On the morning of Mr.Home's departure, he and his daughter had some conversation in a window-recess by themselves; I heard part of it.
"Couldn't I pack my box and go with you, papa ?" she whispered earnestly.
He shook his head.
"Should I be a trouble to you ?" "Yes, Polly." "Because I am little ?" "Because you are little and tender.

It is only great, strong people that should travel.