"Now, Johnny, don't," pleaded his mother.

"Johnny, don't do that," commanded his father every few minutes.

It was a constant "Don't, Johnny, do this" and "Don't, Johnny, do
that," until, the admiral said, the conversation was so mixed up with
"Don't-Johnny's" as made it almost unintelligible. Of course these
expostulations made not a bit of impression on Johnny Morris. To be
sure, he might stop for the moment, but the next second he was doing
something else which brought a fresh round of "Don't-Johnny's" from
each parent.

He was such a generous, affectionate, pretty boy, with his rosy cheeks
and wavy yellow hair, it was a great pity that he should keep a whole
household in a state of constant commotion by his habit of not promptly
minding when he was spoken to. His father and mother were very
indulgent to him, and the admiral believed he had every kind of a toy
known to the boy world. He also had a machine to ride on, which they
called a "wheel." On this he went out occasionally, although Mrs.
Morris declared she never felt at ease a minute while he was gone,
because he never came back at the hour he promised he would. Besides
this, he had a dear little pony, named Jock, on whose back he often
cantered about the big park. Frequently from the bay window the
admiral watched him as he mounted Jock and rode away, while his mother
stood on the house step and called after him as long as he was in
sight: "Don't ride in that reckless way, Johnny; you'll tumble off," or
"Don't, Johnny; the pony will throw you," at which Johnny would laugh
and make the pony go faster.

Among the boy's other possessions was a parrot, which the admiral