“All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey,” said grandmamma. “Ah, he spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt. There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie,” she added, as they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins. Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of Alexander. “How shall I ever know them apart?” said she to Beatrice. “Like grandmamma’s nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below another,” said Beatrice. “However, I don’t require you to learn them all at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?” Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen Bee’s side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly discomposed by Henrietta’s neighbourhood. John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and in another minute they made their appearance. “Good morning sir; good morning, ma’am,” were Uncle Roger’s greetings, as he came in. “Ah, Mary, how d’ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.---Ah, good morning, good morning,” as he quickly shook hands with the younger ones. “Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping.” And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills, during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to see him look so young--younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey’s hair, paled his cheek, and traced lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure that might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and much more robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face ruddy brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In his plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he looked the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable family likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and lip, which recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle Geoffrey. The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the signal for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up stairs for her mother’s work, and came down again laughing. “I am sure, Queenie,” said she, “that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may well be called a great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at breakfast, I have just come across a consultation on the stairs between him and Judith about--what was it?--some money in a savings’ bank.”