It was a very pretty painting--a modern one. Just the heads and
shoulders of two little girls, one of them having her face just below
that of the other, whose little arms were round her sister's neck. I
knew them in an instant. There was no mistaking that look of decision
in the face of the protecting little damsel, nor the wistful appealing
glance in the eyes of the other. The artist had caught both most
happily; and though the fair locks I had admired were uncovered, I
knew my little ladies of the beaver bonnets again.

Having failed to learn anything about them from the housekeeper, I
went to old Giles and asked him the name of the gentleman to whom the
place belonged.

"St. John," he replied.

"I suppose he has got children?" I continued.

"Only one living," said old Giles. "They do say he've buried six, most
on 'em in galloping consumptions. It do stand to reason they've had
all done for 'em that gold could buy, but afflictions, sir, they be as
heavy on the rich man as the poor; and when a body's time be come it
ain't outlandish oils nor furrin parts can cure 'em."

I wondered which of the quaint little ladies had died, and whether
they had taken her to "furrin parts" before her death; and I thought
if it were the grey-eyed little maid, how sad and helpless her little
sister must be.

"Only one left?" I said mechanically.

"Ay, ay," said old Giles; "and he be pretty bad, I fancy. They've got
him in furrin parts where the sun shines all along; but they do say he
be wild to get back home, but that'll not be, but in his coffin, to be
laid with the rest in the big vault. Ay, ay, affliction spares none,
sir, nor yet death."

So this last of the St. John family was a boy. If the little ladies
were his sisters, both must be dead; if not, I did not know who they
were. I felt very angry with the housekeeper for her sulky reticence.
I was also not highly pleased by her manner of treating me, for she
evidently took me for one of the Sunday-school boys. I fear it was
partly a shabby pride on this point which led me to "tip" her with
half-a-crown on my own account when we were taking leave. In a moment
she became civil to slavishness, hoped I had enjoyed myself, and
professed her willingness to show me anything about the place any day
when there were not so "many of them school children crowging and
putting a body out, sir. There's such a many common people comes,
sir," she added, "I'm quite wored out, and having n