"Oh, yes, they have a few, I believe," replied the merchant, with a smile. "Ah! that is fortunate; for wagons are fearfully trying. No, I really think that I could _not_ stand a wagon journey after my experience of the picnic at Worthing some years ago. Think of our large family--seven of us altogether--in a wagon, John--" "But you forget, I said that there _are_ stage-coaches in Scotland." "Well; but think of the slow and wearisome travelling among great mountains, over precipices, and through Scotch mists. Lady Knownothing assures me she has been told that the rain never ceases in Scotland, except for a short time in autumn, just to give the scanty crops time to ripen. You know, dear, that our darling Jacky's health could never stand the Scotch mists, he is so _very_, delicate." "Why, Mary!" exclaimed Mr Sudberry, abruptly; "the doctor told me only yesterday that for a boy of five years old he was a perfect marvel of robust health--that nothing ailed him, except the result of over-eating and the want of open-air exercise; and I am sure that I can testify to the strength of his legs and the soundness of his lungs; for he kicks like a jackass, and roars like a lion." "It is _very_ wrong, _very_ sinful of the doctor," said Mrs Sudberry, in a languidly indignant manner, "to give such a false report of the health of our darling boy." At this moment the door burst open, and the "darling boy" rushed into the room--with a wild cheer of defiance at his nurse, from whom he had escaped, and who was in full pursuit--hit his head on the corner of the table, and fell flat on the floor, with a yell that might have sent a pang of jealousy to the heart of a Chippeway Indian! Mr Sudberry started up, and almost overturned the tea-table in his haste; but before he could reach his prostrate son, nurse had him kicking in her arms, and carried him off howling. "Darling child!" said Mrs Sudberry, with her hand on her heart. "How you do startle me, John, with your violence! That is the fifteenth tea-cup this week." The good lady pointed to a shattered member of the set that lay on the tray beside her. "I have just ordered a new set, my dear," said her husband, in a subdued voice. "Our poor dear boy would benefit, I think, by mountain air. But go on with the _cons_." "Have I not said enough?" replied Mrs Sudberry, with an injured look. "Besides, they have no food in Scotland." This was a somewhat staggering assertion. The merchant looked astonished. "At least," pursued his wife, "they have nothing, I am told, but oatmeal. Do you imagine that Jacky could live on oatmeal? Do you suppose that your family would return to London in a condition fit to be looked at, after a summer spent on food such as we give to our horses? No doubt you will tell me they have plenty of milk,--buttermilk, I suppose, which I abhor. But do you think that I could live with pleasure on sawdust, just because I had milk to take to it?"