After him came two more, Edwin and Walter.

But Muriel still remained as "sister"-- the only sister either given or desired.
If I could find a name to describe that child it would be not the one her happy mother gave her at her birth, but one more sacred, more tender.

She was better than Joy--she was an embodied Peace.
Her motions were slow and tranquil--her voice soft--every expression of her little face extraordinarily serene.

Whether creeping about the house, with a foot-fall silent as snow, or sitting among us, either knitting busily at her father's knee, or listening to his talk and the children's play, everywhere and always Muriel was the same.

No one ever saw her angry, restless, or sad.