Then his attentions to his new plaything grew more pronounced and
vigorous, and within fifteen minutes it had been chased out of the
nursery into the parental bedchamber. Still Jarley slept. Mrs. Jarley
was merely half asleep. She tried to tell Jack to be quiet; but she was
not quite wide awake enough to do so as forcibly as was necessary, and
the result was that instead of abating his ardor, Jack plunged into his
sport more vigorously than ever.
And then Jarley was awakened--and what an awakening it was! Not one of
those peaceful comings-to that betoken the tranquil mind after a good
rest, but a return to consciousness with every warlike tendency in his
being aroused to the highest pitch. Jack had passed the ball with
considerable momentum on to the mantel-piece, which sent it backward on
the rebound to no less a feature than the nose of the slumbering Jarley.
"What the deuce was that?" cried Jarley, sitting up straight in bed. He
had forgotten all about the football, and to his suddenly restored
consciousness it seemed as if the ceiling must have fallen. Then he
rubbed his nose, which still ached from the force of the impact between
itself and the ball.
"It was the ball did it, papa," said Jack, meekly. "'Twasn't me."
In an instant Jarley was on the floor; and Jack, scenting trouble,
incontinently fled. The parent was angry from the top of his head to the
soles of his feet, but as the soles of his feet touched the floor his
anger abated.
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