Sir Roger is among us.

The door has been left ajar, and he, hearing the merry clamor, and having always the _entree_ to mother's room, has entered.

By the pained smile on his face, I can see that he has heard.
"You are right, my boy," he says, quite gently, looking kindly at the unfortunate Bobby; "she _does_ look very--_very_ young!" "I shall mend of that!" cry I, briskly, putting my arm through his, in anxious amends for Bobby's hapless speech.

"We are a family who age particularly early.

I have a cousin whose hair was gray at five-and-twenty, and I am sure that any one who did not know father, would say that he was sixty, if he was a day--would not they, mother ?".