Saunders the other day, that 'they always put the fool of the family
into the army.'"

"I did not say so of myself," cry I, angrily. "I only told it him as a
quotation."

"Abstain from quotations, then," retorts Bobby, dryly; "for you know in
conversation one does not see the inverted commas."

"What _shall_ I talk about?" say I, dropping my shielding hand into my
lap, and letting the full fire-warmth blaze on eyes, nose, and cheeks.
"Barbara, what _did_ you talk about?"

"Whatever I talked about," replies Barbara, gayly, "they clearly were
not successful topics, so I will not reveal what they were."

Barbara is standing by the tea-table, thin and willowy, a tea-caddy in
one hand, and a spoon in the other, ladling tea into the deep-bodied
pot--a spoonful for each person and one for the pot.

"I will draw you up a list of subjects to be avoided," says Algy,
drawing his chair to the table, and pulling a pencil out of his
waistcoat-pocket. "Here, Tou Tou, tear a leaf out of your copy-book--
imprimis, _old age_."

"You are wrong there," cry I, triumphantly, "_quite_ wrong; he is rather
fond of talking of his age, harps upon it a good deal. He said to-day
that he was an _old wreck!_"

"Of course he meant you to contradict him!" says Bobby, cackling, "and,