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No one was in the sitting room at home, nor in the library; but from Mother’s room there came a sound as of some one crying. Johnny Blossom tramped in. There lay Mother on the couch, and Father sat by her side, and they were both sobbing as hard as they could. After all, should he give Miss Jorgensen a present or not? Miss Melling there was no question about. She was always giving him presents, and she wasn’t the worst person in the world, even if she was so fussy about boys wiping their feet. The last time he was at Kingthorpe she had given him a silver pencil holder without any reason whatever! It wasn’t his birthday or anything. Yes, he would certainly give her something—that was settled. THE first of September was Johnny Blossom’s birthday, and Father and Mother had decided that he should have a party and that the party should be held at Kingthorpe. How delightful that would be!.
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“Oh, it’s nothing I can talk about,” returned the other and buried his face in his hands. "Some years since" said Thackeray in a public speech, "when I was younger, and used to frequent jolly assemblies, I wrote a Bacchanalian song to be chanted after dinner;" and a contemporary record has preserved a note of "the radiant gratification of his face whilst Horace Mayhew sang The Mahogany Tree, perhaps the finest and most soul-stirring of Thackeray's social songs." When at last the sun dropped below the edge of the distant hills, leaving the Canyon in deep purple shadow, Bob turned to Mr. Whitney. “But those that were bruised you said we might eat, and we have done that,” said Johnny Blossom, frankly and virtuously..
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