Ernest was to choose
the first hymn, and he chose one about some people who were to come to
the sunset tree. I am no botanist, and do not know what kind of tree a
sunset tree is, but the words began, "Come, come, come; come to the
sunset tree for the day is past and gone." The tune was rather pretty
and had taken Ernest's fancy, for he was unusually fond of music and had
a sweet little child's voice which he liked using.
He was, however, very late in being able to sound a hard it "c" or "k,"
and, instead of saying "Come," he said "Tum tum, tum."
"Ernest," said Theobald, from the arm-chair in front of the fire, where
he was sitting with his hands folded before him, "don't you think it
would be very nice if you were to say 'come' like other people, instead
of 'tum'?"
"I do say tum," replied Ernest, meaning that he had said "come."
Theobald was always in a bad temper on Sunday evening. Whether it is
that they are as much bored with the day as their neighbours, or whether
they are tired, or whatever the cause may be, clergymen are seldom at
their best on Sunday evening; I had already seen signs that evening that
my host was cross, and was a little nervous at hearing Ernest say so
promptly "I do say tum," when his papa had said he did not say it as he
should.
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