the glance of reproof was unnoted save by the old man--who wondered if it
might be by any absurd twist that the boy most like the godless father
were more godly than the one so like his mother that every note of his
little voice and every full glance of his big blue eyes made the old heart
flutter.

In the afternoon came callers from the next house; Dr. Crealock, rubicund
and portly, leaning on his cane, to pass the word of seasonable cheer with
his old friend and pastor; and with him his tiny niece to greet the
grandchildren of his friend. The Doctor went with his host to the study on
the second floor, where, as a Christmas custom, they would drink some
Madeira, ancient of days, from a cask prescribed and furnished long since
by the doctor.

The little boy was for the moment left alone with the tiny niece; to stare
curiously, now that she was close, at one of whom he had caught glimpses
in a window of the big house next door. She was clad in a black velvet
cloak and hood, with pink satin next her face inside the hood, and she
carried a large closely-wrapped doll which she affected to think might
have taken cold. With great self-possession she doffed her cloak and
overshoes; then slowly and tenderly unwound the wrappings of the doll,
talking meanwhile in low mothering tones, and going with it to the fire
when she had it uncloaked. Of the boy who stared at her she seemed
unconscious, and he could do no more than stand timidly at a little
distance. An eye-flash from the maid may have perceived his abjectness,
for she said haughtily at length, "I'm astonished no one in this house
knows where Clytie is!"

He drew nearer by as far as he could slowly spread his feet twice.