To see her now leaning her cheek against his--the small soft face, almost a miniature of his own, the hair, a paler shade of the same bright colour, curling in the same elastic rings--they looked less like ordinary father and daughter, than like a man and his good angel; the visible embodiment of the best half of his soul.

So she was ever to him, this child of his youth--his first-born and his dearest.
The Longfield plan being once started, father and mother and I began to consult together as to ways and means; what should be given up, and what increased, of our absolute luxuries, in order that the children might this summer--possibly every summer--have the glory of "living in the country." Of these domestic consultations there was never any dread, for they were always held in public.

There were no secrets in our house.

Father and mother, though sometimes holding different opinions, had but one thought, one aim--the family good.

Thus, even in our lowest estate there had been no bitterness in our poverty; we met it, looked it in the face, often even laughed at it.