‘do you think Mary Anne has any idea of time?’

‘Why, Doady?’ inquired Dora, looking up, innocently, from her drawing.

‘My love, because it’s five, and we were to have dined at four.’

Dora glanced wistfully at the clock, and hinted that she thought it was too fast.

‘On the contrary, my love,’ said I, referring to my watch, ‘it’s a few minutes too slow.’

My little wife came and sat upon my knee, to coax me to be quiet, and drew a line with her pencil down the middle of my nose; but I couldn’t dine off that, though it was very agreeable.

‘Don’t you think, my dear,’ said I,