140 MADGE’S MISTAKE.

as she puts up her parasol, naughty little
story-teller that she is!

““Hem!—so I thought,” mutters Father,
and I think, “Now for a storm!” but no, Iam
mistaken once more, and we arrive home in
complete silence, all feeling about equally
uncomfortable, I suspect: there is one thing
in my favour, however; Father’s mind is so
completely taken up with my sister’s dis-
graceful conduct, that the show, and even
the hateful roses, have evidently slipped en-
tirely out of it for the present; so I lean back
in my seat less ruffled in mind and spirits
than I have been for some days past, and
give myself up to enjoying the little ghost
of a breeze which is now trying to spring up.
In this manner we arrive home, and as
Father hands Tiny out of the carriage with
elaborate politeness I catch sight of the look
he bestows upon her, and I know full well
that we have not heard the last of the Green-
way escapade, and that he is treasuring up
some little plan which will be a more effectual
punishment to poor Tiny than a mere scolding.