"And what are you girls, I wonder?" inquired the proprietor of the
arm-chair with cutting irony. "Whiney piney, whiney piney. I wish
there were no such things as brothers and sisters!"

"_You wish_ WHAT?" said a voice from the shadow by the door, as deep
and impressive as that of the ghost in Hamlet.

The ten sprang up; but when the figure came into the fire-light, they
saw that it was no ghost, but Paterfamilias's old college friend, who
spent most of his time abroad, and who, having no home or relatives of
his own, had come to spend Christmas at his friend's vicarage. "You
wish _what_?" he repeated.

"Well, brothers and sisters are a bore," was the reply. "One or two
would be all very well; but just look, here are ten of us; and it just
spoils everything. If a fellow wants to go anywhere, it's somebody
else's _turn_. If old Brown sends a basket of grapes, it's share and
share alike; all the ten must taste, and then there's about a grape
and a half for each. If anybody calls or comes to luncheon, there are
a whole lot of brats swarming about, looking as if we kept a school.
Whatever one does, the rest must do; whatever there is, the rest must
share; whereas, if a fellow was an only son, he would have the
whole--and by all the rules of arithmetic, one is better than a
tenth."

"And by the same rules ten is better than one," said the friend.

"Sold again," sang out Master Jack from the floor, and went head over
heels against the fender.