winter at Bexley, when the miseries of a diseased ancle-joint had set
in, and paled her into the tender aliases of White-heart, or Sweet-
heart. She was, as might be plainly seen in her grey eyes, a clever
child; and teaching her was a great delight to her father, and often
interested him when he was unequal to anything else. Her dark
eyebrows frowned with anxiety as she lifted up her little pointed
chin to watch sturdy frank-faced Felix, who with elaborate slowness
dealt with the envelope, tasting slowly of the excitement it created,
and edging away from the baluster, on which, causing it to contribute
frightful creaks to the general Babel, were perched numbers 4, 6, 7,
and 8, to wit, Edgar, Clement, Fulbert, and Lancelot, all three
handsome, blue-eyed, fair-faced lads. Indeed Edgar was remarkable,
even among this decidedly fine-looking family. He had a peculiarly
delicate contour of feature and complexion, though perfectly healthy;
and there was something of the same expression, half keen, half
dreamy, as in Geraldine, his junior by one year; while the grace of
all the attitudes of his slender lissome figure showed to advantage
beside Felix's more sturdy form, and deliberate or downright
movements; while Clement was paler, slighter, and with rather
infantine features, and shining wavy brown hair, that nothing ever
seemed to ruffle, looked so much as if he ought to have been a girl,
that Tina, short for Clementina, was his school name. Fulbert, stout,
square, fat-cheeked, and permanently rough and dusty, looked as if he
hardly belonged to the rest.

The four eldest were day-scholars at the city grammar-school; but
Lancelot, a bright-faced little fellow in knickerbockers, was a pupil
of whoever would or could teach him at home, as was the little girl
who was clinging to his leg, and whose name of Robina seemed to have
moulded her into some curious likeness to a robin-redbreast, with her