pronounced insensible."

"A wonderful old fellow was that Albert," said Fred, looking, and
forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration.
"Yes; O how wondrously the expression on Death's face changes as it
does in the story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it
up! Have you seen it, mamma?"

His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another,
and Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of
the old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to
have a word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of
the prints with no practised hand. "Take care, Alex, take care," cried
Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; "don't you see what a pinch
you are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there
is a pattern for you," pointing to Fred.

She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the
table. Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which
possessed any tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen
Bee's black eyes perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing
triumph.

But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very
sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night,
she stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain
parting cautions.

"How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in
her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person