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1"Well!" she cried, picking up the pocket-handkerchief, "if that don't make seven times! What ARE you a-doing of this
2afternoon, Mum!" Mrs. Pocket received her property, at first with a look of unutterable surprise as if she had never
3seen it before, and then with a laugh of recognition, and said, "Thank you, Flopson," and forgot me, and went on
4reading. I found, now I had leisure to count them, that there were no fewer than six little Pockets present, in various
5stages of tumbling up. I had scarcely arrived at the total when a seventh was heard, as in the region of air, wailing
6dolefully. "If there ain't Baby!" said Flopson, appearing to think it most surprising. "Make haste up, Millers."
7Millers, who was the other nurse, retired into the house, and by degrees the child's wailing was hushed and stopped, as
8if it were a young ventriloquist with something in its mouth. Mrs. Pocket read all the time, and I was curious to know
9what the book could be. We were waiting, I supposed, for Mr. Pocket to come out to us; at any rate we waited there, and
10so I had an opportunity of observing the remarkable family phenomenon that whenever any of the children strayed near
11Mrs. Pocket in their play, they always tripped themselves up and tumbled over her,--always very much to her momentary
12astonishment, and their own more enduring lamentation. I was at a loss to account for this surprising circumstance, and
13could not help giving my mind to speculations about it, until by and by Millers came down with the baby, which baby was
14handed to Flopson, which Flopson was handing it to Mrs. Pocket, when she too went fairly head foremost over Mrs. Pocket,
15baby and all, and was caught by Herbert and myself. "Gracious me, Flopson!" said Mrs. Pocket, looking off her book for a
16moment, "everybody's tumbling!" "Gracious you, indeed, Mum!" returned Flopson, very red in the face; "what have you got
17there?" "I got here, Flopson?" asked Mrs. Pocket. "Why, if it ain't your footstool!" cried Flopson. "And if you keep it
18under your skirts like that, who's to help tumbling? Here! Take the baby, Mum, and give me your book." Mrs. Pocket acted
19on the advice, and inexpertly danced the infant a little in her lap, while the other children played about it. This had
20lasted but a very short time, when Mrs. Pocket issued summary orders that they were all to be taken into the house for a
21nap. Thus I made the second discovery on that first occasion, that the nurture of the little Pockets consisted of
22alternately tumbling up and lying down. Under these circumstances, when Flopson and Millers had got the children into
23the house, like a little flock of sheep, and Mr. Pocket came out of it to make my acquaintance, I was not much surprised
24to find that Mr. Pocket was a gentleman with a rather perplexed expression of face, and with his very grey hair
25disordered on his head, as if he didn't quite see his way to putting anything straight.
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