The two little faces near the door grew still more solemn. What strange words big people used!--what could Grandpapa and Grandmamma mean? But Grandpapa laid down his paper and looked at them again; Grandmamma too by this time was less embarrassed by her work. The children felt that they had at last attracted the old people's attention. "We came, Grandpapa and Grandmamma, to wish you good-night," began Duke. "And to hope you will bo'f sleep very well," added Pamela. This little formula was repeated every evening with the same ceremony. "Thank you, my good children," said Grandpapa encouragingly; on which the little couple approached and stood one on each side of him, while he patted the flaxen heads. "I may call you 'my good children' to-night, I hope?" he said inquiringly. The two looked at each other. "Bruvver has been good, sir," said the little girl. "Sister has been good, sir," said the little boy. The two heads were patted again approvingly. "But us haven't _bo'f_ been good," added the two voices together. Grandpapa looked very serious. "Indeed, how can that be?" he said. There was a pause of consideration. Then a bright idea struck little Marmaduke. "I think perhaps it was _most_ Toby," he said. "Us was running, and Toby too, and us felled down, and Toby barked, and when us got up again it was all tored." "What?" said Grandpapa, still very grave. "Sister's gown, sir." "My clean white gown," added Pamela impressively; "but bruvver didn't do it. _He_ said so." "And sister didn't do it. _She_ said so," stated Duke. "But Nurse said _one_ of us had done it. Only I don't think she had thought of Toby." "Perhaps not," said Grandpapa. "Let us hope it was Toby." "Nevertheless," said Grandmamma, who had quite disengaged herself from her netting by this time, "Pamela must remember that she is growing a big missy, and it does not become big misses to run about so as to tear their gowns." Pamela listened respectfully, but Grandmamma's tone was not alarming. The little girl slowly edged her way along from Grandpapa's chair to Grandmamma's. "Did you never tear your gowns when you were a little missy, Grandmamma?" she inquired, looking up solemnly into the old lady's face. Grandmamma smiled, and looked across at her husband rather slily. He shook his head. "Who would think it indeed?" he said, smiling in turn. "Listen, my little girl, but be sure you tell it again to no one, for it was a little bird told it to me, and little birds are not fond of having their secrets repeated. Once upon a time there was not a greater hoyden in all the countryside than your Grandmamma there. She swam the brooks, she climbed the trees, she tore her gowns----"