"You will not take more than half a glass, I suppose, Caroline, at _this_ time of the day," Uncle James said playfully, as he took up the decanter; "and marsala, _not_ port. I know what ladies are." Poor Mrs. Caldwell was exhausted, and would have been the better for a good glass of port; but she meekly held her peace. Then Uncle James cut the cake, and gave each of the children a very small slice. Beth held hers suspended half-way to her mouth, and gazed at her uncle. "What _is_ that child staring at?" he asked her mother at last. "I think she is admiring you," was Mrs. Caldwell's happy rejoinder. "No, mamma, I am not," Beth contradicted. "I was just thinking I had never seen anything so big in my life." "_Anything!_" Uncle James protested. "What does she mean, Caroline?" "I don't mean this slice of cake," Beth chuckled. "Come, dear--come, dear," Aunt Grace Mary hurriedly interposed. "Come upstairs, and see--and see--the pretty room you're to have. Come and take your things off, like a good child." Beth rose obediently, but before she followed her aunt out of the room she said: "Here, Bernadine; you'd better have my slice. You'll howl if you don't get enough. Cakes are scarce and dear here, I suppose." Aunt Victoria had tatted diligently during this little scene. Now she looked up over her spectacles and inspected Uncle James. "I like that child," she said decidedly. "In which respect I should think you would probably find yourself in a very small minority," Uncle James lisped, spreading his mouth into what would have been a smile in any other countenance, but was merely an elongation of the lips in his. Mrs. Caldwell rocked herself forlornly. Mildred nestled close to her mother; while Baby Bernadine, with a slice of cake in each hand, took a mouthful first from the right and then from the left, impartially. Uncle James gazed at her. "I suppose that is an Irish custom," he said at length. "Bernadine! what are you doing?" Mrs. Caldwell snapped; and Bernadine, startled, let both slices fall on the floor, and set up a howl with her mouth full. "Ah!" Uncle James murmured tenderly. "Little children are such darling things! They make the sense of their presence felt the moment they enter a house. It becomes visible also in the crumbs on the floor. There is evidently nothing the matter with her lungs. But I should have thought it would be dangerous to practise her voice like that with the mouth full. Perhaps she would be more at her ease upstairs." Mrs. Caldwell took the hint. When the child had gone, Uncle James rang for a servant to sweep up the cake and crumbs, and carefully stood over her, superintending. "That will do," he said at length, "so far as the cake and crumbs are concerned, but I beg you to observe that you have brushed the pile of the carpet the wrong way."