“Oh, little boy, are you? Well, how do you do, little boy?” smiled Everage. “Me very well,—how you?” politely responded Lenny. “I’m very well too.” “Me dad you very well too.” “Thank you.” “You dot itty boy home?” “No, I’ve got no little boy at home; but I have got six little girls.” “Sit itty dirl? Me habben dot itty dirl home.” “Haven’t you? what a pity!” “You bin you itty dirl hee me?” “Yes, I’ll bring my little girls to see you,” said the poor gentleman, turning away from the child with some emotion, and beginning to talk with Pina,—who was looking on and smiling with proud delight at the bright intelligence and gracious manners of her little charge. “He is a very fine little fellow, nurse,” said Everage. “Yes, sir, lots of ladies and gentlemen, who stop to speak to him, say the same,” answered Pina, gazing with satisfaction upon her little Lenny. “And he is very like his father,” pursued Everage. “Well, sir, I never could see the likeness myself, I’m sure,” answered the girl resentfully, and wondering how this stranger came to know who was little Lenny’s father. “He seems to be perfectly healthy?” went on the would-be heir presumptive. “Why, he never had any real illness for an hour, sir. Even when he was teething, he only ailed a little—nothing to speak of at all, sir.” “Ah, well, he’s like a young bear—all his troubles are before him.” “Indeed, sir; then I think you are more of a bear, yourself to be a-saying of such things! Come, master Leonard, let us go home—mamma will be wanting us.” “Dood-by! come hee me soon,” said Lenny, holding out his hand to the stranger. “Good-by, my little lad!” said Everage, pressing the child’s offered hand as he turned away. Little Lenny and his nurse went back to the Morley House, and Everage bent his steps to the Newton Institute for Young Gentlemen. “More than one-half the children that are born alive die before they reach the age of three years, do they? Well—clearly this youngster belongs to the half that live! Never has had any of those infantile disorders that slay Infants of ‘two years old and under,’ with a massacre more terrible than that of Herod of Galilee. Ah! but the little fellow has them all to meet, for they are sure to come, sooner or later; yes, but he has a fine constitution with which to fight disease; well, but still this is certain, that children of robust frames, full-fleshed and full-blooded, never get over these inflammatory fevers as easily as do those of thinner and feebler organization. These very healthy children are exceedingly apt to go off in these acute attacks of disease. Master Lyon, Master of Killcrichtoun, you will have to take the risk with the rest.” Such were the reflections of Everage as he bent his steps that afternoon to the Newton Institute, and while he sat at his desk examining boys in their Latin and Greek exercises and algebraic and geometrical problems; and while he sauntered sorrowfully and wearily home to his gloomy lodgings.