brother's house for some years, he being then a widower.

I cannot say I altogether liked doing so. Having independent means of my
own, I did not require to fill such a position, and I had never got on
very well with Duncan. However, I dearly loved the children, although I
had enough to do with them, too. Janet was one of the prettiest,
merriest, laughing little creatures--with eyes the colour of the sea in
summer-time, and a complexion like a wild-rose--the sun ever shed its
light upon; but she had a most distressing way of tearing her frocks and
of never looking tidy, which Duncan seemed to think entirely my fault;
and as for Paul, he certainly was a most awful boy.

He was fair as Janet, though with a differently-shaped face; rather a
long face, with a square, determined-looking chin; and, besides being
one of the handsomest, was assuredly one of the cleverest boys I ever
knew. He had a good, sound, strong Scotch intellect, and was as sharp as
a needle, or any Yankee, into the bargain.

But he _would_ have his own way, whatever it was, and was often
mischievous as a fiend incarnate; and in his contradictory moods, would
have gone on saying black was white all day on the chance of getting
somebody to argue with him. Duncan paid no attention whatever to the
lad, except, from time to time, to speculate what particular bad end he
would come to.

But I loved Paul, and Paul loved me--and adored Janet.

The boy had one exceedingly beautiful feature in his face: sometimes I
could not take my eyes from it; I used to wonder if it could be that
which made me love him so much--his mouth. I have never seen another