“No, my sweet,” said Emily, consoling her empty arms for their loss, and appeasing her heart with a kiss.
“And father always said that some day he should come home to early dinner,” continued Hugh, “and show the great magic lantern up in Parliament. Then Swan’s grandchildren and the coachman’s little girls are coming; and every one is to have a present. It will be such fun.”
“The shell,” observed Bertram, “means a sort of a class between the other classes. Father’s so glad Johnnie has got into the shell.”
“She is glad too,” said Anastasia. “You’re glad, Mrs. Nemily.”
“Yes, I am glad,” answered Emily, a tear that had gathered under her dark eyelashes falling, and making her eyes look brighter, and her smile more sweet.
Emily was not of a temperament that is ever depressed. She had her times of sorrow and tears; but she could often smile, and still oftener laugh.
“Now there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr. Standfast, when he was about half way in, he stood awhile, and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither; and he said,...’I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there have I coveted to set my foot too.’”—Pilgrim’s Progress.
And now the Christmas holiday being more than half over, Mr. Augustus Mortimer desired that his grandson might come and spend a few days with him, for Valentine had told him how enchanted John was with the boy’s progress, but that he was mortified almost past bearing by his lisp. Grand therefore resolved that something should be done; and Crayshaw having now arrived, and spending the greater part of every day with his allies the young Mortimers, was easily included in the invitation. If anybody wants a school-boy, he is generally most welcome to him. Grand sent a flattering message to the effect that he should be much disappointed if Cray did not appear that day at his dinner table. Cray accordingly did appear, and after dinner the old man began to put before his grandson the advantage it would be to him if he could cure himself, of his lisp.
“I never lithp, Grand,” answered the boy, “when I talk thlowly, and—No, I mean when I talk s-lowly and take pains.”
“Then why don’t you always talk slowly and take pains, to please your father, to please me, and to improve yourself?”
“This is very little more than an idle childish habit,” continued Grand.
“We used to think it would do him good to have his tongue slit,” said Crayshaw, “but there’s no need. When I torment him and chaff him, he never does it.”