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 "c" or "k,"
and, instead of saying "Come," he said "Tum, tum, tum."
"Ernest," said Theobald, from the armchair 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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