"I heard her say she had only one brother, Mrs. Austin, and that he was
in some distant part of the world, in India, or New Orleans, or some
such place, she does not know herself exactly where. He is a young lad,
and she grieves about him; his picture is most beautiful, I think. He
ran off and went to sea, and it almost killed her. That was some years
ago, and since then she has been teaching in a great school until she
came to us, and was never so peaceful before, she says, as she is now. I
think she will make papa happy too, and keep him in his own family,
since she has none of her own. I was so afraid it was Mrs. Stanbury at
one time."

"I never thought of that," said Mrs. Austin, starting. "What put it into
your head, Evelyn, and what made you so close-mouthed about it? Child,
you have an old head on young shoulders--I always said so; as like your
own precious mother as two peas. Yes, that would have been a nice
connection truly! The two young Stanburys forsooth, to divide every
thing with you and Miriam, and her rigid economy the rule in the house,
and Norman riding over every one on a high horse, and that lame brat to
be nursed and waited on! Any thing better than that, Evelyn. You are
right, my dear." And she tapped her suggestive snuffbox.

My elder sister was about thirteen years old when she uttered those
oracular sentences which elicited Mrs. Austin's commendations, and her
own clear-sighted _prévoyance;_ and I, at eight, whose mind was turned
to any subject save that of marrying and giving in marriage, stood
confounded by her superior wisdom and discretion. I gazed upon her
open-mouthed and wide-eyed as she spoke, drinking in every word, yet
very little enlightened, after all, by her remarks. She turned suddenly
upon me, and tapped my cheek slightly with her fan. It was a way she had