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"Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while
my brother and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased
with the children. We are very proud of the children, are not we,
papa? I wonder which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?"

"Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they
will be to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet."

"I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not."

"Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the eldest,
he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second,
is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe,
that the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry,
which I thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy,
indeed. They are all remarkably clever; and they have so many
pretty ways. They will come and stand by my chair, and say,
`Grandpapa, can you give me a bit of string?' and once Henry asked me
for a knife, but I told him knives were only made for grandpapas.
I think their father is too rough with them very often."

"He appears rough to you," said Emma, "because you are so very
gentle yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas,
you would not think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy;
and if they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then;
but he is an affectionate father--certainly Mr. John Knightley
is an affectionate father. The children are all fond of him."

"And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling
in a very frightful way!"

"But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much.
It is such enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down
the rule of their taking turns, whichever began would never give way
to the other."

"Well, I cannot understand it."

"That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot
understand the pleasures of the other."

Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate
in preparation for the regular four o'clock dinner, the hero
of this inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away;
but Emma could receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye
soon discerned in his the consciousness of having made a push--of
having thrown a die; and she imagined he was come to see how it
might turn up. His ostensible reason, however, was to ask whether
Mr. Woodhouse's party could be made up in the evening without him,
or whether he should be in the smallest degree necessary at Hartfield.
If he were, every thing else must give way; but otherwise his friend
Cole had been saying so much about his dining with him--had made
such a point of it, that he had promised him conditionally to come.

Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his
friend on their account; her father was sure of his rubber.
He re-urged--she re-declined; and he seemed then about to make
his bow, when taking the paper from the table, she returned it--

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