Good Nurse Gooch! We all owe much to her staunch fidelity, strong discipline, and unselfish devotion, but nature had not fitted her to deal with a timid, sensitive child, of highly nervous temperament. Indeed, persons of far more insight might have been perplexed by the fact that Clarence was exemplary at church and prayers, family and private,—whenever Griff would let him, that is to say,—and would add private petitions of his own, sometimes of a startling nature. He never scandalised the nursery, like Griff, by unseemly pranks on Sundays, nor by innovations in the habits of Noah’s ark, but was as much shocked as nurse when the lion was made to devour the elephant, or the lion and wolf fought in an embrace fatal to their legs. Bible stories and Watt’s hymns were more to Clarence than even to me, and he used to ask questions for which Gooch’s theology was quite insufficient, and which brought the invariable answers, ‘Now, Master Clarry, I never did! Little boys should not ask such questions!’ ‘What’s the use of your pretending, sir! It’s all falseness, that’s what it is! I hates hypercrīting!’ ‘Don’t worrit, Master Clarence; you are a very naughty boy to say such things. I shall put you in the corner!’ Even nurse was scared one night when Clarence had a frightful screaming fit, declaring that he saw ‘her—her—all white,’ and even while being slapped reiterated, ‘_her_, Lucy!’ Lucy was a kind elder girl in the Square gardens, a protector of little timid ones. She was known to be at that time very ill with measles, and in fact died that very night. Both my brothers sickened the next day, and Emily and I soon followed their example, but no one had it badly except Clarence, who had high fever, and very much delirium each night, talking to people whom he thought he saw, so as to make nurse regret her severity on the vision of Lucy. CHAPTER II. SCHOOLROOM DAYS. ‘In the loom of life-cloth pleasure, Ere our childish days be told, With the warp and woof enwoven, Glitters like a thread of gold.’—JEAN INGELOW. Looking back, I think my mother was the leading spirit in our household, though she never for a moment suspected it. Indeed, the chess queen must be the most active on the home board, and one of the objects of her life was to give her husband a restful evening when he came home to the six o’clock dinner. She also had to make both ends meet on an income which would seem starvation at the present day; but she was strong, spirited, and managing, and equal to all her tasks till the long attendance upon me, and the consequent illness, forced her to spare herself—a little—a very little.