When Alec, Frank, and Molly entered the drawing-room, where their parents were in readiness, for the great annual frolic with Father, they didn't tumble in as was their usual habit; they walked in sedately. They had something important to say. "Truly, Daddy, how old are you?" asked Molly, running up to him. She wouldn't be hushed down by the boys. She felt she wanted to make sure of what she already knew. "I told you I was twenty-one, of course! One always expects such a nice lot of presents when one is twenty-one! But you two young rascals evidently think I really must be a very old man of forty at least!" he replied, smiling. "And does he never grow older, Mummy?" "I don't see it, Molly darling." "Do you ever see the _Times_, boys?" he inquired. "That's just what's so queer," said Alec. "I've got it here." Alec noticed the glance which his parents exchanged, and their expression of astonishment when Frank remarked-- "We took it with us this afternoon to Somerset House." "Yes," corroborated Alec. "Me, too," chimed in Molly. And then they told of all they had done, and their parents tried to look grave, but couldn't, and could scarcely speak for laughing, though they extorted a promise that nothing of the kind should ever again be attempted without permission. "Surely, what is in the _Times_," reasoned their father, "must be true--at least one must presume so." "Halloa," broke in Alec. "I say, Frank! Look here! This Guy Thompson was born in Cambridge Square! I never noticed that. Weren't you born in Oxford Square, Father?" "Well, I think I might just as well have been born in one as in the other. All I know is, that if I _was_ twenty-one, I am twenty-one--_and_ the rest--you never asked me how many more. Come along, boys, now for our cushion-fight! But first of all, here are your expenses back again--your Babyship, there's your sixpence--and now I really can't wait any longer for a romp!" Soon the room was gay with laughter. Father, too, had to be a real guy and a "pretend" one, pushed about in the arm-chair with a funny long nose spoiling his jolly face. And afterwards they all danced whilst their mother played a hornpipe--and really it _was_ very difficult to guess Father's years, they might have been anything! Then he suddenly ran out. There was a rush to the window, the blind was drawn up, and soon, in the darkness of the night, a grand catharine-wheel was seen whizzing round in a blaze of dripping fire. Then such a glorious shoot of rockets arose! Whish! bang! whish! bang! they went as they burst, each of them, into a shower of gorgeous stars all purple, and green, and gold. "A--a--h!" exclaimed the three children, gazing with rapture. And-- "A--a--h!" they repeated over and over and over again, as splendour followed splendour, and the sky was powdered again and again with sparks of coloured fire. FATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME TWILIGHT