‘Well,’ said Albinia, ‘at least there is one beer-shop less in Tibbs’s Alley. And if there are tolerable seasons, I daresay paint, whitewash, and windows to open, may keep the place moderately wholesome till--Are you sixteen yet, Gilbert? Five years.’ ‘Yes, and then--’ Gilbert came and sat down beside her, and they built a scheme for the almshouses so much wanted. Gilbert was sure the accumulation would easily cover the expense, and Albinia had many an old woman, who it was hoped might live to enjoy the intended paradise there. ‘Yes, yes, I promise,’ cried Gilbert, warming with the subject, ‘the first thing I shall do--’ ‘No, don’t promise,’ said Albinia. ‘Do it from your heart, or not at all.’ ‘No, don’t promise, Gilbert,’ said Sophy. ‘Why not, Sophy?’ he said good-humouredly. ‘Because you are just what you feel at the moment,’ said Sophy. ‘You don’t think I should keep it?’ ‘No.’ The grave answer fell like lead, and Albinia told her she was not kind or just to her brother. But she still looked steadily at him, and answered, ‘I cannot help it. What is truth, is truth, and Gilbert cares only for what he sees at the moment.’ ‘What is truth need not always be fully uttered,’ said Albinia. ‘I hope you may find it untrue.’ But Sophy’s words would recur, and weigh on her painfully. CHAPTER XI. The summer had just begun, when notice was given that a Confirmation would take place in the autumn; and Lucy’s name was one of the first sent in to Mr. Dusautoy. His plan was to collect his candidates in weekly classes of a few at a time, and likewise to see as much as he could of them in private. ‘Oh! mamma!’ exclaimed Lucy, returning from her first class, ‘Mr. Dusautoy has given us each a paper, where we are to set down our christening days, and our godfathers and godmothers. And only think, I had not the least notion when I was christened. I could tell nothing but that Mr. Wenlock was my godfather! It made me feel quite foolish not to know my godmothers.’ ‘We were in no situation to have things done in order,’ said Mr. Kendal, gravely. ‘If I recollect rightly, one of your godmothers was Captain Lee’s pretty young wife, who died a few weeks after.’ ‘And the other?’ said Lucy. ‘Your mother, I believe,’ he said. Lucy employed herself in filling up her paper, and exclaimed, ‘Now I do not know the date! Can you tell me that, papa?’ ‘It was the Christmas-day next after your birth,’ he said. ‘I remember that, for we took you to spend Christmas at the nearest station of troops, and the chaplain christened you.’ Lucy wrote down the particulars, and exclaimed, ‘What an old baby I must have been! Six months old! And I wonder when Sophy was christened. I never knew who any of her godfathers and godmothers were. Did you, Sophy?’ ‘No--’ she was looking up at her father. A sudden flush of colour came over his face, and he left the room in haste. ‘Why, Sophy!’ exclaimed Lucy, ‘one would think you had not been christened at all!’