I'd like to round them up myself.

Mother's tales of her childhood home,--as retold me by my father,--sounded delightful.

They had old country estates, and--" "And ancestral halls! Hung with old armour! Oh, Little Billee, what fun to take Fleurette there! Portraits of her ancestors smiling down at her from the oaken walls of the long picture gallery--" "Patty, Patty! how you _do_ run on! I don't know that there are any picture galleries at all." "Oh, of course there are.

They're bound to be there.

And maybe a family ghost! A spectre, that stalks the corridors when one of the family is about to die--" "Hush! You bad child! What awful ideas!" "I've just been reading a story about a family spectre.