'But what lessons did you do--when--when you were little?'

'Ancient history, the Classics, arithmetic and so on,' he answered. 'My
sister and I were thick-heads, but my two brothers (I'm the middle one)
liked those things, and, of course, Mother was clever enough for any
six. She was nearly as tall as I am, and she looked like the new statue
on the Western Road--the Demeter of the Baskets, you know. And funny!
Roma Dea! How Mother could make us laugh!'

'What at?'

'Little jokes and sayings that every family has. Don't you know?'

'I know we have, but I didn't know other people had them too,' said Una.
'Tell me about all your family, please.'

'Good families are very much alike. Mother would sit spinning of
evenings while Aglaia read in her corner, and Father did accounts, and
we four romped about the passages. When our noise grew too loud the
Pater would say, "Less tumult! Less tumult! Have you never heard of a
Father's right over his children? He can slay them, my loves--slay them
dead, and the Gods highly approve of the action!" Then Mother would prim
up her dear mouth over the wheel and answer: "H'm! I'm afraid there
can't be much of the Roman Father about you!" Then the Pater would roll
up his accounts, and say, "I'll show you!" and then--then, he'd be worse
than any of us!'

'Fathers can--if they like,' said Una, her eyes dancing.