'Yes. I really think I may say he is a poet. He is a very brilliant,
clever young man, and he quite hopes to get a fellowship at Trinity. He
says he is sure to be high up among the wranglers, and that he expects
to get one of the Chancellor's medals. That is his likeness--the one
hanging against the wall behind you.'

Molly turned round, and saw one of the crayon sketches--representing
two boys, in the most youthful kind of jackets and trousers, and
falling collars. The elder was sitting down, reading intently. The
younger was standing by him, and evidently trying to call the attention
of the reader off to some object out of doors--out of the window of the
very room in which they were sitting, as Molly discovered when she
began to recognize the articles of furniture faintly indicated in the
picture.

'I like their faces!' said Molly. 'I suppose it is so long ago now,
that I may speak of their likenesses to you as if they were somebody
else; may not I?'

'Certainly,' said Mrs. Hamley, as soon as she understood what Molly
meant. 'Tell me just what you think of them, my dear; it will amuse me
to compare your impressions with what they really are.'

'Oh! but I did not mean to guess at their characters. I could not do
it; and it would be impertinent, if I could. I can only speak about
their faces as I see them in the picture.'

'Well! tell me what you think of them!'

'The eldest--the reading boy--is very beautiful; but I can't quite make