Tim played on his privileges as "littlest," and his mother's barely concealed partiality, and was as irritating to his elders as a small person can be, who is always present when he is not wanted, absent when he is, in peace adopts the airs of a conqueror, and in warfare promptly cries, and collapses into a curly-headed baby boy, whom the authorities declare it is "cr-uel" to bully! For the rest, the house was of the high and narrow order common to town terraces, inconveniently crowded by its many inmates, and viewed from without, of a dark and grimy appearance. Sandon Terrace had no boast to make either from an architectural or a luxurious point of view, and was so obviously inferior to its neighbour, Napier Terrace, that it was lacerating to the Garnett pride to feel that their sworn friends the Vernons were so much better domiciled than themselves. Napier Terrace had a strip of garden between itself and the rough outer world; big gateways stood at either end, and what Vie Vernon grandiloquently spoke of as "a carriage sweep" curved broadly between. Divided accurately among the houses in the terrace, the space of ground apportioned to each was limited to a few square yards, but the Vernons were chronically superior on the subject of "the grounds," and in springtime when three hawthorns, a lilac, and one spindly laburnum-tree struggled into bloom, their airs were beyond endurance. The Vernons had also a second claim to superiority over the Garnetts, inasmuch as they were the proud possessors of an elder brother, a remote and learned person who gained scholarships, and was going to be Prime Minister when he was grown up. Dan at eighteen, coaching with a tutor preparatory to going up to Cambridge, was removed by continents of superiority from day-school juniors. Occasionally in their disguise of the deadly jealousy which in truth consumed them, the Garnett family endeavoured to make light of the personality of this envied person. To begin with, his name! "Dan" was well enough. "Dan" sounded a boy-like boy, a manly man; of a "Dan" much might be expected in the way of sport and mischief, but--oh, my goodness--_Daniel_! The Garnetts discussed the cognomen over the play-room fire. "It must be so _embarrassing_ to have a Bible name!" Lavender opined. "Think of church! When they read about me I should be covered with confusion, and imagine that every one was staring at our pew!" Clemence stared thoughtfully into space. "I, Clemence, take thee Daniel," she recited slowly, and shuddered. "No--really, I couldn't!" "He wouldn't have you!" the three boys piped; even Tim, who plainly was talking of matters he could not understand, added his note to the chorus, but Darsie cocked her little head, and added eagerly-- "Couldn't you, really? What _could_ you, do you think?" Clemence stared again, more rapt than ever. "Lancelot, perhaps," she opined, "or Sigismund. Everard's nice too, or Ronald or Guy--"