window, put a cushion at her
back and a footstool under her feet, and brought her a cup of beef-tea.
Sophia Jane looked out of the window and clapped her hands with
pleasure.

"How beautiful it is!" she exclaimed.

For the sun was shining very brightly, and all the crocuses in Aunt
Hannah's garden were in bloom--smart little soldiers in their trim
uniforms of purple, gold, and white, standing in rows amongst their
bristling green spears. There were tiny green leaves on all the
gooseberry bushes, the sky was blue, and it all looked like a fresh new
world to her after she had been shut up so long in one room.

"I may go out of doors to-morrow, mayn't I?" she asked eagerly as Aunt
Hannah came into the room. But Aunt shook her head.

"You must be patient, my dear," she said. "The sun is hot, but the wind
is in the east, and it is not really warm yet. The doctor says we must
be careful not to risk a chill. Susan must think of something to amuse
you in-doors."

"I know something she would like," said Susan. She nodded her head
towards the portrait over the mantelpiece, and the gentleman in the
pig-tail seemed to answer her glance with his kind blue eyes.

"You promised long ago you would tell us a story about him--a true one.
We should both like that."

"Perhaps I will this evening," replied Aunt Hannah; "but you must amuse
Sophia Jane quietly until then, and be careful not to tire her."

This Susan readily promised, and looked forward with great pleasure to
the evening, not only because she was extremely fond of hearing a story,
but because she had gradually come to take a good deal of interest in
Captain Enticknapp. He was her mother's aunt's father, and therefore
Susan's great-grandfather, and it was wonderful to think how long ago he
lived, and what strange things he must have seen and done. The
sitting-room, and indeed the whole house, was full of objects he had
brought home from his different voyages: oddly shaped-cups and bowls and
dishes of blue china, ivory carvings, and curious inlaid snuff-boxes.
There was one idol Susan specially liked. He was made of sandalwood,
and sat cross-legged in the middle of the mantelpiece just under the
portrait. His forehead was high and shining, and his expression
benevolent; here and there, he had been chipped and notched, so that one
might smell the fragrance of the wood. In her own mind Susan had given
him the name of Robin Grey, which she thought seemed to suit