"Who is he?" asked the Rector.

"I only know that he answers to the name of Joe. And here he
comes," as a boy about ten years old came lumbering up in big boots,
with a heavy plaid shawl on one arm, and an immense green umbrella
in the other.

"Thank you, Joe. Make your bow to the lady and gentleman."

This was a pull of the flaxen forelock; for Joe was a slender,
pretty, fair boy, of that delicately-complexioned English type which
is not roughened till after many years of exposure.

"That's right, my man," said Julius, kindly. "What is your name?"

"Please, sir, Joshua Reynolds."

"Instinct," whispered Rosamond.

"Or influence of a name," returned Miss Vivian.

"Are you one of Dan Reynolds's boys, or Tim's?" proceeded

"No, I bides with granny."

Julius made no further attempt at disentangling the pedigree but
inquired about his employments. Did he go to school?

"When there ain't nothing to be done."