Mr. Pelby called it a "family accident," and one of a kind that
married people were so familiar with, as scarcely to be annoyed by
them.

"Come here, Henry," said he. "Just see what you have done! Now go
kiss the lady, and say, 'I'm sorry.'"

The little fellow's eye brightened, and going up to Mrs. Little, he
pouted out his cherry lips, and, as she kissed him, he said, with a
suddenly-assumed demure, penitent look--"I torry."

"What's Henry sorry for?" asked Mrs. Little, instantly softening
towards the child, and taking him on her knee.

"I torry," he repeated, but in a much livelier tone, at the same
time that he clambered up and stood in her lap, with his little
hands again crushing her beautiful French collar.

"Come here, Henry," said Mr. Manly, who saw that Mrs. Little was
annoyed at this; but Henry would not move. He had espied a comb in
Mrs. Little's head, and had just laid violent hands upon it,
threatening every moment to flood that lady's neck and shoulders
with her own dishevelled tresses.

"Come and see my watch," said Mr. Manly.

This was enough. Henry slid from Mrs. Little's lap instantly, and in
the next minute was seated on Mr. Manly's knee, examining that
gentleman's time-keeper. Between opening and shutting the watch,
holding it first to his own and then to Mr. Manly's ear, Henry spent