“Horrid. I say the men and women you inquire for are all in this house of mine;” and the old gentleman's eyes twinkled. “Uncle! Heaven forgive you, and--oh, fie!” “They are, upon my soul.” “Then they must be in some part of it I have not visited. Are they in the kitchen?” (with a little saucy sneer.) “No, they are in the library.” “In the lib--Ah! _le malin!”_ “They were never seen in the drawing-room, and never will be.” “Yet surely they must have lived in nature before they were embalmed in print,” said Lucy, interrogating the ceiling again. “The nearest approach you will meet to these paragons is Reginald Talboys,” said Fountain, stoutly. “Uncle, I do love you;” and Lucy rose with Juno-like slowness and dignity, and, leaning over the old boy, kissed him with sudden small fury. “Why?” asked he, eagerly, connecting this majestic squirt of affection with his last speech. “Because you are such a nice, dear, _sarcastic_ thing. Let us drink tea in the library to-morrow, then that will be an approach to--” With this illegitimate full stop the conversation ended, and Miss Fountain took a candle and sauntered to bed. In church next Sunday Lucy observed a young lady with a beaming face, who eyed her by stealth in all the interstices of devotion. She asked her uncle who was that pretty girl with a _nez retrousse._ “A cocked nose? It must be my little friend, Eve Dodd. I didn't know she was come back.” “What a pretty face to be in such--such a--such an impossible bonnet. It has come down from another epoch.” This not maliciously, but with a sort of tender, womanly concern for beauty set off to the most disadvantage. “O, hang her bonnet! She is full of fun; she shall drink tea with us; she is a great favorite of mine.” They quickened their pace, and caught Eve Dodd just as she took a flying leap over some water that lay in her path, and showed a charming ankle. In those days female dress committed two errors that are disappearing: it revealed the whole foot by day, and hid a section of the bosom at night. After the usual greetings, Mr. Fountain asked Eve if she would come over and drink tea with him and his niece. Miss Dodd colored and cast a glance of undisguised admiration at Miss Fountain, but she said: “Thank you, sir; I am much obliged, but I am afraid I can't come. My brother would miss me.” “What--the sailor? Is he at home?” “Yes, sir; came home last night”; and she clapped her hands by way of comment. “He has been with my mother all church-time; so now it is my turn, and I don't know how to let him out of my sight yet awhile.” And she gave a glance at Miss Fountain, as much as to say, “You understand.” “Well, Eve,” said Mr. Fountain good-humoredly, “we must not separate brother and sister,” and he was turning to go. “Perhaps, uncle,” said Lucy, looking not at Mr. Fountain, but at Eve--“Mr.--Mr.--” “David Dodd is my brother's name,” said Eve, quickly.