"Arthur never laughs unless there is a joke." The little boy became grave at once, and said severely, "There's hardly ever anything to laugh at in what you say; but I always laugh for fear people should be disappointed." He was very sensitive to rebuke.

"I am not so sensitive as I am always supposed to be," he said to me once.

"I am one of those people who cry when they are spoken to, and do it again." For instance, he told me that, being very fond of music when he was small, he stole down one morning at six to play the piano.

His father, a very early riser, was disturbed by the gentle tinkling, and coming out of his study, asked him rather sharply why he couldn't do something useful--read some Shakespeare.

He never played on the piano again for months, and for years never until he had ascertained that his father was out.