"I cannot tell you a word about it. Mamma did not know I heard them. How plain one can hear what they say in that parlour, Hugh, when the door is open! What do you think I heard mamma tell Mrs. Bicknor, last week, when I was jumping Harry off the third stair?" "Never mind that. Tell me what they are talking about now. Do, Agnes." Agnes shook her head. "Now do, dear." It was hard for Agnes to refuse Hugh anything, at any time; more still when he called her "dear," which he seldom did; and most of all when he put his arm round her neck, as he did now. But she answered,-- "I should like to tell you every word; but I cannot now. Mamma has made you shut the door. She does not wish you to hear it." "Me! Then will you tell Jane?" "Yes. I shall tell Jane, when we are with mamma at work." "That is too bad!" exclaimed Hugh, flinging himself down on the leads so vehemently that his sister was afraid he would roll over into the yard. "What does Jane care about Crofton and the boys to what I do?" "There is one boy there that Jane cares about more than you do, or I, or anybody, except papa and mamma. Jane loves Phil." "O, then, what they are saying in the parlour is about Phil." "I did not say that." "You pretend you love me as Jane loves Phil! and now you are going to tell her what you wont tell me! Agnes, I will tell you everything I know all my whole life, if you will just whisper this now. Only just whisper--Or, I will tell you what. I will guess and guess; and you can nod or shake your head. That wont be telling." "For shame, Hugh! Phil would laugh at you for being a girl, if you are so curious. What mamma told Mrs. Bicknor was that Jane was her right hand. What do you think that meant exactly?" "That Jane might give you a good slap when you are so provoking," said Hugh, rolling over and over, till his clothes were covered with dust, and Agnes really thought once that he was fairly going over the edge into the yard. "There is something that I can tell you, Hugh; something that I want to tell you, and nobody else," said Agnes, glad to see him stop rolling about, and raise himself on his dusty elbow to look at her. "Well, come, what is it?" "You must promise beforehand not to be angry." "Angry! when am I angry, pray? Come, tell me." "You must--you really must--I have a particular reason for saying so--you must learn how much four times seven is. Now, remember, you promised not to be angry." Hugh carried off his anger by balancing himself on his head, as if he meant to send his heels over, but that there was no room. From upside down, his voice was heard saying that he knew that as well as Agnes. "Well, then, how much is it?" "Twenty-eight, to be sure. Who does not know that?" "Then pray do not call it fifty-six any more. Miss Harold----" "There's the thing," said Hugh. "When Miss Harold is here, I can think of nothing but fifty-six. It seems to sound in my ears, as if somebody spoke it, 'four times seven is fifty-six.'"