[Illustration]

What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against.
He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his
catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair of
his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said
Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss
Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in at
the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to crumple his
Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to be sure to
say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his shoes on the
doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at once that she
might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and for the first
day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as wild as usual,
for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He began to feel more at
ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk confidentially with him,
as he did with the Postman. All that the General felt it would take too
long to tell, but the result was the same. He was disposed to talk
confidentially with Jackanapes.

"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on to
the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows were
long and peaceful.

"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his
yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale armchairs
in which they sat.

"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left