"Prayers," they exclaimed, and as they said the word a young housemaid
put her face in at the door.

"Master Duke and Miss Pamela," she said, "Nurse says I'm to take you
down to prayers. But you must come first to wash your hands and smooth
your hair."

A very correct little couple presented themselves a few minutes later at
the dining-room door, and after the salute and the curtsey, and wishing
Grandpapa and Grandmamma "a very good morning," seated themselves one on
each side of the old lady, while Grandpapa read from the prayer-book a
few verses of the Bible, the Collect of last Sunday, and two or three
prayers for the benefit of the whole family, including a row of neat,
mostly elderly, servants near the door. Duke and Pamela listened
attentively, their hands crossed on their knees, their eyes fixed on
Grandpapa--no fidgetting or staring about or making signs to each other.
Such things would probably have been severely punished.

And then came what was almost the happiest part of the day for
"us,"--breakfast number two; that is, breakfast with Grandpapa and
Grandmamma. With the greatest interest they watched to see what was to
be given them. This morning there were no eggs, but there were some
tempting little slices of toast, fresh butter, and a glass dish of
honey, clear as amber, with which materials Grandmamma proceeded to
fabricate two delicious sandwiches, having already filled the little
cups with weak, but, this morning, sugarless tea.

"No need to put sugar when you are eating honey. You would not taste
it," she explained. "Now, then, is not that a nice little treat for my