'No fish or hot bread for you, my dear. Eat your good oatmeal porridge and milk; that is the proper food for children.' 'Can't I have some tea?' cried mamma, in despair, for without it she felt quite lost. 'Certainly not. _I_ never was allowed tea when a little girl, and couldn't think of giving it to you,' said Kitty, filling a large cup for herself, and sipping the forbidden draught with a relish. Poor mamma quite groaned at this hard fate, but meekly obeyed, and ate the detested porridge, understanding Kitty's dislike to it at last. Harry, sitting in his father's chair, read the paper, and ate everything he could lay his hands on, with a funny assumption of his father's morning manner. Aunt Betsey looked on much amused, and now and then nodded to the children as if she thought things were going nicely. Breakfast was half over when papa came in, and was about to take Harry's place when his son said, trying vainly to look grave as he showed the watch,-- 'What did I tell you, sir? You are late again, sir. No breakfast, sir. I'm sorry, but this habit _must_ be broken up. Not a word; it's your own fault, and you must bear the penalty.' 'Come, now, that's hard on a fellow! I'm awful hungry. Can't I have just a bite of something?' asked papa, quite taken aback at this stern decree. 'I said not a morsel, and I shall keep my word. Go to your morning duties and let this be a lesson to you.' Papa cast a look at Aunt Betsey, that was both comic and pathetic, and departed without a word; but he felt a sudden sympathy with his son, who had often been sent fasting from the table for some small offence. Now it was that he appreciated aunty's kind heart, and felt quite fond of her, for in a few minutes she came to him, as he raked the gravel walk (Harry's duty every day), and slipping a nice, warm, well-buttered muffin into his hand, said, in her motherly way,-- 'My dear, do try and please your father. He is right about late rising, but I can't bear to see you starve.' 'Betsey, you are an angel!' and turning his back to the house, papa bolted the muffin with grateful rapidity, inquiring with a laugh, 'Do you think those rogues will keep it up in this vigorous style all day?' 'I trust so; it isn't a bit overdone. Hope you like it!' and Aunt Betsey walked away, looking as if _she_ enjoyed it extremely. 'Now put on your hat and draw baby up and down the avenue for half an hour. Don't go on the grass, or you will wet your feet; and don't play with baby, I want her to go to sleep; and don't talk to papa, or he will neglect his work,' said Kitty, as they rose from table. Now, it was a warm morning and baby was heavy and the avenue was dull, and mamma much preferred to stay in the house and sew the trimming on to a new and pretty dress. 'Must I really? Kitty you are a hard-hearted mamma to make me do it,' and Mrs. Fairbairn hoped her play-parent would relent. But she did not, and only answered with a meaning look.