Mr. Thorpe stopped as he passed the page, and snatched the umbrella out
of Snoxell's hand, with unaccustomed impetuity; said sharply, "Go to
your mistress, go on to the church;" and then resumed his road home,
dragging his son after him faster than ever.

"Snoxy! Snoxy!" screamed Master Zack, turning round towards the page,
so that he tripped himself up and fell against his father's legs at
every third step; "I've been a naughty boy at church!"

"Ah! you look like it, you do," muttered Snoxell to himself
sarcastically, as he went on. With that expression of opinion, the page
approached the church portico, and waited sulkily among his fellow
servants and their umbrellas for the congregation to come out.

When Mr. Goodworth and Mrs. Thorpe left the church, the old gentleman,
regardless of appearances, seized eagerly on the despised gingham
umbrella, because it was the largest he could get, and took his
daughter home under it in triumph. Mrs. Thorpe was very silent, and
sighed dolefully once or twice, when her father's attention wandered
from her to the people passing along the street.

"You're fretting about Zack," said the old gentleman, looking round
suddenly at his daughter. "Never mind! leave it to me. I'll undertake
to beg him off this time."

"It's very disheartening and shocking to find him behaving so," said
Mrs. Thorpe, "after the careful way we've brought him up in, too!"

"Nonsense, my love! No, I don't mean that--I beg your pardon. But who
can be surprised that a child of six years old should be tired of a