of my age do when their sight is failing)--"I can tell you and
save your visitor the trouble. His name is Philip Brady, and his
father is my cousin."

Dr. Cricket looked thoroughly taken aback. This I rather enjoyed, for
he is always prying into affairs and saying, "I rather suspect so and
so," with his nose held out as if he got at his intuitions by the
sense of smell.

"You don't say so," was all he could get out this time; and meanwhile
Philip called out, in his hearty voice, "Holloa, Cousin Susan!" and
kissed me a little louder than I liked; but that is the difference
between Bison and Boston. Perhaps I am hard to suit, for his
companion's manner seemed to me as much too repressed as Philip's was
too exuberant. He had the air of holding his mental hands behind him
and warning off social intruders with a "Let us not enter upon too
familiar a basis of mutual acquaintance," and yet he was not brought
up on Beacon Street, and I was, which makes it all the worse. He is a
handsome man,--that is, his features are regular, his teeth are fine,
and the little tuft of white hair above the temple gives a marked air
of distinction. Altogether, he has a peculiarly well-groomed effect;
but his face is like a mask,--one does not get any inkling of what is
going on behind it. The eye-glasses too seem to take all expression
out of the eyes, and leave them mere inquisitors for discovering the
sentiments revealed by those who don't wear similar shields. I notice
the same thing about Dr. Cricket. I can always get the best of him in
argument unless he has his spectacles on. Then I become confused,
forget my point, and the Doctor comes off triumphant.

Of course, when the Doctor urged the young men to stay, they sat
down, and Philip began at once to ask about the people in Oldburyport,
whom he remembered very well, except their names. Everything was
pleasant until Jimmy Anstice came along, as he always does when not
especially wanted, and began to tease about having the fire-works set
off. Nothing could be allowed to go on until they were brought out. If
he had been my child, he should have been soundly punished and sent to
bed for whining and pulling at his father's coat-tails; but Mr.
Anstice is amiable to the verge of inanity where Jimmy is concerned,
and after saying, "My dear!" and "Yes, in a minute," he allowed
himself to be fairly pulled out of his chair and into the house, from
which he shortly emerged with Jimmy, bearing betwe