The child, who had not yet cast his cap, dealt a blow at his sister, which Miss Bab returned by knocking him down. The child did not attempt to cry at the blow, but, rising from the floor, he again doubled his infantine fists for the battle. Tom Pynsent was delighted. "Well done, Bill, well done, my sharp lad! Come, that's enough at a time! Live to fight another day, Bill!" "Come to your granny, my sharpshooter," cried Mrs. Pynsent; "I have something in my pocket for stout-hearted men!" Billy toddled to his grandmother, who drew a box of sugarplums from her capacious pocket, and rewarded his prowess by a shower of sweets. Tom and Moll were likewise engaged in a controversy, which threatened to end in an engagement. They were quarrelling over Christobelle's parasol, Moll demanding it to walk with, and be a lady, like aunt Bell, while Tom insisted upon shouldering it like a bayonet, as the Count de Nolis had taught him. The dispute ran very high. "Tom, dear, don't let the children fight," said Anna Maria, as she examined the make and material of her sister's silk pelisse, "they have been fighting all day." "Aunt Bell, mayn't I have it?" screamed little Moll, as she struggled with her brother for the possession of the parasol. "I will have it first!" roared Tom, dragging the handle from her grasp. Mr. Boscawen extricated the parasol from their hands, and kept possession of it during their stay in the drawing-room, but no one else attempted to release Christobelle's property from the struggle. Tom Pynsent called their attention from their defeat. "Now, Tom, catch papa if you can, and show your aunt whether your legs are as stout as your lungs. Moll! Bab! Bill! now for it!" The drawing-room became a scene of dreadful confusion. Tom Pynsent, delighted to show off his children, and always the foremost to give them pleasure, threaded the mazes of the tables and chairs, while the little ones raced screaming and hallooing after him. Mr. Boscawen sought a retreat from their deafening shouts by quitting the room, and even Anna Maria half closed her eyes, as she assured her sister they made really more noise that day than ever, in compliment, she supposed, to her arrival. Mrs. Pynsent sat with the box of sugarplums on her lap, enjoying the din of voices, and inciting them forward, by clapping her hands and exclaiming:--"Hurrah, my lads and lasses, catch him! Round the chair, Bill!--down you go--up again--well done, my hearty! Halloo there, Moll! Bab, you be hanged!" Mr. Pynsent looked overpowered, but he said nothing. Such were the sports of Hatton. The commotion continued till both parties, the chaser and the chased, became wearied with their exertions, and then the children wished to go and ride their rocking-horses. Mrs. Pynsent loaded them with sweetmeats and good advice, as she dismissed each from her presence.