His brain, therefore, worked rapidly and well. It was more than
possible, thought he, that his mother's sympathy could be induced to
exceed her indignation. She was really an affectionate woman; and
this was the line to go upon. So he squeezed the scratches in his
knees to expedite the issue of blood, and bravely entered the house.

"Mother," he called, introducing suitable pathos into his tones,
"Mother, I've fallen all down the wall!"

This effective opening, should it seem successful, it was his
intention to follow up with seasonable allusions to his birthday.
But alas! one glimpse of Mrs. Pennybet's face when she saw his suit,
showed him the folly of remaining on the scene, and with the speed
of a fawn, he was out in the garden, and up an elm tree, swaying
about like a crow's nest. And there, a minute later, was Mrs.
Pennybet standing below, her skirts held up in one hand, a small
cane in the other.

"Come down, Archie," she said. "Come down."

"Not a bit of it," replied her son. "You come up!"

* * * * *

At least Mrs. Pennybet, a vivacious _raconteuse_, always declared to
me that such was his reply. I do not trust these mothers, however,
and regard it as a piece of her base embroidery. At any rate, it is
certain that her effort to secure Archie for punishment was quite
unsuccessful. And, an hour afterwards, a small figure came quietly