Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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                 Of the writing of the mottoes.

                 All the Brownlows of St. Kenelm’s,

                 From the Folly and from Kencroft.

                 Robert, the aspiring soldier,

                 Robert, too, the sucking chemist,

                 John, the Skipjack full of mischief,

                 John, the great originator,

                 Allen, the—”

      “Allen the uncommon gaby,” broke in Bobus. “Come, don’t waste time, something must be done.”

      “Yes, a rational letter must be written and signed by you all,” said his mother. “The question is whether it would be better to do it through your uncle or Mr. Ogilvie.”

      “I don’t see why my father should hear of it, or Mr. Ogilvie either,” growled Rob. “I didn’t do those donkeyfied ears.”

      “You did the writing, which was five hundred times more donkeyfied,” said Jock.

      “It is quite impossible to keep either of them in ignorance,” said Caroline.

      “Yes,” repeated all her own three; Jock adding “Father would have known it as soon as you, and I don’t see that my uncle is much worse.”

      “He ain’t so soft,” exclaimed Johnny, roused to loyal defence of his parent.

      “Soft!” cried Jock, indignantly; “I can tell you father did pitch into me when I caught the old lady’s bonnet out at the window with a fishing-rod.”

      “He never flogged you,” said Johnny contemptuously.

      “He did!” cried Jock, triumphantly. “At least he flogged Bobus, when—”

      “Shut up, you little ape,” thundered Bobus, not choosing to be offered up to the manes of his father’s discipline.

      “You think you must explain it to my uncle, mother,” said Allen, rather ruefully.

      “Certainly. He ought to be told first, and Mr. Ogilvie next. Depend upon it, he will be far less angry if it is freely confessed and put into his hands and what is more important, Mr. Barnes must attend to him, and acquit the Richardses.”

      The general voice agreed, but Rob writhed and muttered, “Can’t you be the one to tell him, Mother Carey?”

      “That’s cool,” said Allen, “to ask her to do what you’re afraid of.”

      “He couldn’t do anything to her,” said Rob.

      However, public opinion went against Rob, and the party of boys dragged him off in their train the less reluctantly that Allen would be spokesman, and he always got on well with his uncle. No one could tell how it was, but the boy had a frank manner, with a sort of address in the manner of narration, that always went far to disarm displeasure, and protected his comrades as well as himself. So it was that, instead of meeting with unmitigated wrath, the boys found that they were allowed the honours and graces of voluntary confession. Allen even thought that his uncle showed a little veiled appreciation of the joke, but this was not deemed possible by the rest.