I maintained strict discipline, and allowed no nonsense; but two sad drawbacks constantly perplexed me. In the first place, their ways were so ridiculous, and they laboured so much harder to make me laugh, than they did to learn, that I could not always keep my countenance, and when the spelling-book went up before my face, they knew, as well as possible, what was going on behind it, and peeped round or below, and burst out all together. The second drawback was, that Mrs. Huxtable, in spite of all my protests, would be always rushing in, upon errands purely fictitious; and the farmer himself always found some special business in the yard, close to the wired and unglazed window, whence every now and then his loud haw-haws, and too audible soliloquies, "Dang me! wull done, Zally, that wor a good un; zay un again, cheel! zay un again, wull ’e?" utterly overthrew my most solemn institutions. "Coom now, smarl chillers"--I addressed them in my unclassical Devonshire dialect, for it kept their attention alive to criticise me when I "spak unvitty"--"coom now, e’ve a been spulling lang enough: ston round me now, and tull me what I axes you." Already, I had made one great mistake, by saying "round" instead of "raound," and Billy, the genius of the family, was upon the giggle. "Now thun, wutt be a quadripade?" "Ai knoo!" says Sally, with her hand held out. "Zo do ai," says Jack, thrusting forth his stomach. "Who wur axing of you?" I inquire in a stately manner. "You bain’t the smarl chillers, be ’e? Bill knows," I continue, but wax doubtful from the expression of Bill’s face. "Ees fai," cries Bill, suddenly clearing up, "her be wutt moother zits on vor to mulk the coos. Bain’t her now?" "Thee bee’st ony wan leg out, Bill. Now Tabby Badcock?" While Tabby is splashing in her memory (for I told them all last week), the farmer much excited, and having no idea what the answer should be, but hoping that one of his own children may discover it first, boldly shows his face at the wired window, but is quite resolved to allow fair play. Not so Mrs. Huxtable, who, in full possession of the case, suddenly appears behind me, and shakes her fist at poor puzzled Tabby. "Thee’dst best pretend to know more than thy betters." She tries to make Tabby hear, without my catching her words. But the farmer hotly shouts, "Lat un alo-un, waife. Tak thee hon from thee mouth, I tull ’e. Spak up now, little wanch." Thus encouraged, Tabby makes reply, looking cross-wise at Mrs. Huxtable. "Plase, Miss, it be a beastie wi vour taials." "Raight," cries the farmer, with admiration conquering his disappointment; "raight this taime, ai’ll tak my oath on it. I zeed wan to Barnstaple vair last year, and her wor karled, ’Phanominy Quadripade,’ her Kirsten name and her zurname, now ai coom to racollack."