so much that he would not leave them to grow rich and honoured as a
London physician. But there was no grandpapa left now to be angry; and
grandmamma, though we had never seen her, we had always loved for the
beautiful presents she sent us.

There were only three of us at this time--my little self; Bobbie, a boy
of four years old, boasting of the fattest, rosiest cheeks in the world;
and wee Willie, the white-faced, fretful baby of six months. Oh, how
well I remember the old house, with its great lamp hanging out over the
lonely road, and shining among the trees, to show the villagers the way
up to their good, kind friend the doctor. Many were the blessings we
little ones used to get as we passed down the village street, and we
owed them all to our father's goodness.

Happy times we had of it, Bobbie and I, in that old house at the top of
the hill. I don't think any little brothers and sisters were ever quite
such good friends. There were three years between us, but I was little
and he was big, so nobody guessed it, and we played together, and never
thought which was the elder. The great treat of the day was the game
with papa in the evening, but that couldn't be counted upon. Very often
he would have to leave the dinner-table suddenly, and when we heard his
peculiar slam of the hall-door before the bell rang to summon us down,
we knew that we had lost our game, and we comforted ourselves by telling
each other that papa had gone to see some little sick child like baby
Willie, and to make him quite well; and then we would make up our minds
to a good quiet game by ourselves.

[Illustration: PAPA AND MAMMA.]

We used to take turns, he playing at doll with me one time, and I