"Home, I suppose," Oswald said. And he thought how nasty and dark and dull it would be. The fire out most likely and Father away. "And your Father's not at home, you say," the blue-gimlet lady went on. "What do you say to having tea with me, and then seeing the entertainment we have got up for our old people?" Then the lady smiled and the blue gimlets looked quite merry. The room was so warm and comfortable and the invitation was the last thing we expected. It was jolly of her, I do think. No one thought quite at first of saying how pleased we should be to accept her kind invitation. Instead we all just said "Oh!" but in a tone which must have told her we meant "Yes, please," very deeply. Oswald (this has more than once happened) was the first to restore his manners. He made a proper bow like he has been taught, and said-- "Thank you very much. We should like it very much. It is very much nicer than going home. Thank you very much." I need not tell the reader that Oswald could have made up a much better speech if he had had more time to make it up in, or if he had not been so filled with mixed flusteredness and furification by the shameful events of the day. We washed our faces and hands and had a first rate muffin and crumpet tea, with slices of cold meats, and many nice jams and cakes. A lot of other people were there, most of them people who were giving the entertainment to the aged poor. After tea it was the entertainment. Songs and conjuring and a play called "Box and Cox," very amusing, and a lot of throwing things about in it--bacon and chops and things--and nigger minstrels. We clapped till our hands were sore. When it was over we said goodbye. In between the songs and things Oswald had had time to make up a speech of thanks to the lady. He said-- "We all thank you heartily for your goodness. The entertainment was beautiful. We shall never forget your kindness and hospitableness." The lady laughed, and said she had been very pleased to have us. A fat gentleman said-- "And your teas? I hope you enjoyed those--eh?" Oswald had not had time to make up an answer to that, so he answered straight from the heart, and said-- "Ra--_ther_!" And every one laughed and slapped us boys on the back and kissed the girls, and the gentleman who played the bones in the nigger minstrels saw us home. We ate the cold pudding that night, and H.O. dreamed that something came to eat him, like it advises you to in the advertisements on the hoardings. The grown-ups said it was the pudding, but I don't think it could have been that, because, as I have said more than once, it was so very plain. Some of H.O.'s brothers and sisters thought it was a judgment on him for pretending about who the poor children were he was collecting the money for. Oswald does not believe such a little boy as H.O. would have a real judgment made just for him and nobody else, whatever he did.