"I hope," said my mother, "that they are doing Sisty justice. I do
think he is not nearly so quick a child as he was before he went to
school. I wish you would examine him, Austin."

"I have examined him, my dear. It is just as I expected; and I am quite
satisfied."

"What! you really think he has come on?" said my mother, joyfully.

"He does not care a button for botany now," said Mr. Squills.

"And he used to be so fond of music, dear boy!" observed my mother, with
a sigh. "Good gracious, what noise is that?"

"Your son's pop-gun against the window," said my father. "It is lucky
it is only the window; it would have made a less deafening noise,
though, if it had been Mr. Squills's head, as it was yesterday morning."

"The left ear," observed Squills; "and a very sharp blow it was too.
Yet you are satisfied, Mr. Caxton?"

"Yes; I think the boy is now as great a blockhead as most boys of his
age are," observed my father with great complacency.

"Dear me, Austin,--a great blockhead?"

"What else did he go to school for?" asked my father.

And observing a certain dismay in the face of his female audience, and a