The elderly gentleman, looking out of the window in front, perceived two little boots dangling from the branch of a high tree, almost against the heaven.

"Who's up that tall tree?" asked the elderly gentleman.

Autobiography of a Child — Part 94

"Oh, that's Angela. She always reads up there."

Autobiography of a Child — Part 94

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the elderly gentleman.

Autobiography of a Child — Part 94

After further conversation, he walked down the room to examine the view from the back. In gazing across the sea, seemingly near Howth, he detected a rock point surrounded with heavy waves, and two little specks upon this rock.

"It looks as if there were some creatures in danger of being drowned," remarked the elderly gentleman.

"Oh, not at all. That's Pauline's rock. She and Birdie always go out when the tide is out, and spend the whole day wading there, and they come back when the tide runs out again."

Looking later up to the stable roof, he saw three little golden heads bent over cards.

"Those are the three youngest, playing beggar-my-neighbour on the roof."

"What extraordinary children!" muttered the elderly gentleman.

She devised a notable and original punishment for me whenever I flew into one of my diabolical rages. She would order Miss Kitty, the sentimental little stitcher, to hold my feet, a servant to hold my head, and while I lay thus on the ground in durance vile, she would piously besprinkle me with holy water, and audibly beseech the Lord and my guardian angel to deliver me of the devil. It would be difficult for me to conceive an operation more suitable as entertainment of the devil than my sister's pious and fiendish method of obtaining his dismissal. The first thing I inevitably did, when liberated, was to go into the yard, and pump all the holy water off my wicked person. Then, dripping like a Newfoundland, I would return to the house and decline to change my dress or shoes, in the vociferated hope of immediate death from consumption.

All the children and young folk round about us had parents who, if they went into town of a morning, were safe to return at night. Most of them had mothers and aunts who lived at Dalkey all the summer. Only we were happy enough to be so neglected by indifferent parents as to possess a large house at our exclusive disposition four or five entire days and nights of the week. Picture our rare and wild abuse of that freedom, and imagine the envy it inspired in the bosoms of other children, of natures as independent as ours!