“Pretty creatures! I don’t know which is the prettiest,” said Colonel Lenny, coming up. He had all the children in a cluster round him. “They are three beauties; that is all there is to be said. If you were not so little I could tell you now about a great number of pretty girls in a family, that were called the pride of Barbadoes. I married one of them, and my friend Markham--why, my friend Markham knew them very well, my dear madam,” the Colonel said. It did not seem to be the conclusion which he intended to give to his description. However, he added, with a smile, “But as you’re so little I won’t tell you about young ladies. I’ll tell you about the Oboe men, and the harm they do among the poor niggers.” “Oh,” cried Bell and Marie, in one breath, “we should like to hear about the young ladies best.” “Bosh!” cried the boys; “what is the good of stories about a pack of girls? I hate stories that are full of love and all that stupid stuff.” “Then here goes for the Oboe men,” said the old soldier. He seated himself under the great portico, in a large Indian bamboo chair that stood there in summer, and the children perched about him like a flight of birds. Lady Markham looked at this group for a moment, with a softening of all the anxious lines that had got into her face. She was not afraid of her husband, who had always been so good to her, but she was afraid of disapproval, and the Spears’ affair was fresh in her mind. But then, in all the circumstances, that was so different!