“Well, they didn’t find it out this evening,” said Asahel.

But that little speech went home, and for half the way as he walked up to the house holding Asahel’s hand, there was something like bitterness in the heart of the elder brother.  So long, but no longer.  They had got only so far when he looked down at the little boy beside him and spoke with his usual calm clearness of tone, entire and unchanged.

“Then they aren’t as clear-sighted as I am, Asahel, for I always know when you are looking at me.”

“Ah, I don’t believe you do!” said Asahel laughing up at him; “I very often look at you when you don’t look at me.”

“Don’t trust to that,” said Winthrop.

There was in the little boy’s laugh, and in the way he wagged his brother’s hand backwards and forwards, a happy and confident assurance that Winthrop could do anything, that it was good to do.

Everybody was at the supper-table; there was nothing for Winthrop then to do but to take his place; but his countenance to his mother, all supper-time, was worth a great deal.  His cool collected face at her side heartened her constantly, though he scarcely spoke at all.  Mr. Landholm played the part of host with no drawback to his cheerfulness; talked a great deal, and pressed all the good things of the table upon Miss Cadwallader; who laughing, talking, and eating, managed to do her full share of all three.  She was certainly very pretty.  Her “light-coloured” hair was not so light as to be uncomely, and fell in luxuriant ringlets all round the sides of her pretty head; and the head moved about enough to shake the ringlets, till they threatened to form a mazy net to catch men’s eyes.  The prettiest mouth in the world, set with two little rows of the most kissable teeth, if that feature ever is contemplated in a kiss; and like the ringlets, the lips seemed to be in a compact to do as much mischief as they could; to keep together and mind their own business was the last thing thought of.  Yet it was wonderful how much business they managed to transact on their own account, too.  The other girl sat grave and reserved, even almost with an air of shyness, eat much less, and talked none at all; and indeed her face was pale and thin, and justified what her father had said about her wanting the country.  Rufus seemed to have got back his good-humour.  He quite kept up the credit of his side of the table.

Immediately after supper the two girls went to their room.

“Well, how do you like ’em?” said Mr. Landholm.  “Did ye ever see a prettier creature, now, than that Rose?  Her face is like a rose itself.”

“It is more like a peach-blossom,” said Rufus.

“The little one don’t look well,” said Mrs. Landholm.

“I wonder who’ll go strawberrying with them,” said Asahel.

CHAPTER IX.

Mat.  “He is of a rustical cut, I know not how; he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion.” Wet.  “Oh, Mr. Matthew, that’s a grace peculiar but to a few.”  EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.