“Yes, a real jolly one. For you know, Babie, it will take lots of room, even if I write my very smallest.” “Please let it be ruled, Armie. And where shall we begin?” “Oh! at the beginning, I think, just when Sir Engelbert first heard about the Crusade.” “It will take lots of books then.” “Never mind, we can buy them all now. And do you know, Bab, I think Adelmar and Ermelind might find a nice lot of natural petroleum and frighten Mustafa ever so much with it!” For be it known that Armine and Barbara’s most cherished delight was in one continued running invention of a defence of Jotapata by a crusading family, which went on from generation to generation with unabated energy, though they were very apt to be reduced to two young children who held out their fortress against frightful odds of Saracens, and sometimes conquered, sometimes converted their enemies. Nobody but themselves was fully kept au courant with this wonderful siege, which had hitherto been recorded in interlined copy-books, or little paper books pasted together, and very remarkably illustrated. The door began to creak with an elaborate noisiness intended for perfect silence, and Jock’s voice was heard. “Bother the door! Did it wake mother? No? That’s right;” and he squatted down between the little ones while Bobus seated himself at the table with a book. “Well! what colour shall our ponies be?” began Jock, in an attempt at a whisper. “Oh! shall we have ponies?” cried the little ones. “Zebras if we like,” said Jock. “We’ll have a team.” “Can’t,” growled Bobus. “Why not? They can be bought!” “Not tamed. They’ve tried it at the Jardin d’Acclimatisation.” “Oh, that was only Frenchmen. A zebra is too jolly to let himself be tamed by a Frenchman. I’ll break one in myself and go out with the hounds upon him.” “Jack-ass on striped-ass--or off him,” muttered Bobus. “Oh! don’t, Jock,” implored Babie, “you’ll get thrown.” “No such thing. You’ll come to the meet yourself, Babie, on your Arab.” “Not she,” said Bobus, in his teasing voice. “She’ll be governessed up and kept to lessons all day.” “Mother always teaches us,” said Babie. “She’ll have no time, she’ll be a great lady, and you’ll have three governesses--one for French, and one for German, and one for deportment, to make you turn out your toes, and hold up your head, and never sit on the rug.” “Never mind, Babie,” said Jock. “We’ll bother them out of their lives if they do.” “You’ll be at school,” said Bobus, “and they’ll all three go out walking with Babie, and if she goes out of a straight line one will say ‘Fi donc, Mademoiselle Barbe,’ and the other will say, ‘Schamen sie sich, Fraulein Barbara,’ and the third will call for the stocks.” “For shame, Robert,” cried his mother, hearing something like a sob; “how can you tease her so!” “Mother, must I have three governesses?” asked poor little Barbara. “Not one cross one, my sweet, if I can help it!” “Oh! mother, if it might be Miss Ogilvie?” said Babie.