‘And little girls have sometimes done it, Claude. I know a story of one who saved her little brother from drowning, and another waked the people when the house was on fire. And when I was at Broomhill, Marianne showed me a story of a young lady who helped to save the Prince, that Prince Charlie that Miss Weston sings about. I wish the Prince of Wales would get into some misfortune—I should like to save him.’ ‘I do not quite echo that loyal wish,’ said Claude. ‘Well, but, Claude, Redgie wishes for a rebellion, like Sir Maurice’s, for he says all the boys at his school would be one regiment, in green velvet coats, and white feathers in their hats.’ ‘Indeed! and Redgie to be Field Marshal?’ ‘No, he is to be Sir Reginald Mohun, a Knight of the Garter, and to ask the Queen to give William back the title of Baron of Beechcroft, and make papa a Duke.’ ‘Well done! he is to take good care of the interests of the family.’ ‘But it is not that that I should care about,’ said Phyllis. ‘I should like it better for the feeling in one’s own self; I think all that fuss would rather spoil it—don’t you, Claude?’ ‘Indeed, I do; but Phyllis, if you only wish for that feeling, you need not look for dangers or rebellions to gain it.’ ‘Oh! you mean the feeling that very good people indeed have—people like Harry—but that I shall never be.’ ‘I hope you mean to try, though.’ ‘I do try; I wish I was as good as Ada, but I am so naughty and so noisy that I do not know what to do. Every day when I say my prayers I think about being quiet, and not idling at my lessons, and sometimes I do stop in time, and behave better, but sometimes I forget, and I do not mind what I am about, and my voice gets loud, and I let the things tumble down and make a noise, and so it was yesterday.’ Here she looked much disposed to cry. ‘No, no, we will not have any crying this evening,’ said Claude. ‘I do not think you did me much mischief, my head ached just as much before.’ ‘That was a thing I wanted to ask you about: William says my crying loud is all habit, and that I must cure myself of it. How does he mean? Ought I to cry every day to practise doing it without roaring?’ ‘Do you like to begin,’ said Claude, laughing; ‘shall I beat you or pinch you?’ ‘Oh! it would make your head bad again,’ said Phyllis; ‘but I wish you would tell me what he means. When I cry I only think about what makes me unhappy.’ ‘Try never to cry,’ said Claude; ‘I assure you it is not pleasant to hear you, even when I have no headache. If you wish to do anything right, you must learn self-control, and it will be a good beginning to check yourself when you are going to cry. Do not look melancholy now. Here comes the tea. Let me see how you will perform as tea-maker.’ ‘I wish the evening would not go away so fast!’ ‘And what are we to do after tea? You are queen of the evening.’ ‘If you would but tell me a story, Claude.’