“There were two big girls, and two big boys, and a little girl, and a little boy.  I thought they all looked nice, and the girls were pretty, and one of the big boys was so full of fun he twinkled all over.  A handsome boy, with red hair and dark blue eyes; but, oh, such a pity! his name is Obadiah, for I heard the other call him so.  How can intelligent people call a boy Obadiah?”

She sewed for some minutes in silence, her needle darting in and out with thoughtful regularity, then went on.

“All the family seem to have strange names.  The other boy is called Ferguson, and one girl is Toots, and another is Chucky.  I detest nicknames; but these people all seemed so jolly, and on such good terms with each other, that I felt a sort of warming to them.  The girl named Toots tumbled out of the wagon, and the others all laughed, and she laughed, too.  She dropped everything she was carrying, and she was carrying a great deal,—­a butterfly-net, and a mouse-trap, and three books, and a bandbox,—­and everybody seemed to think that the best joke of all.  One called her medicine dropper, and another drop-cake, and another dropped egg, and so on; and away they all went into the house, laughing and shouting and tumbling over each other.  Such a jolly family.  Mamma!”

“Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Grahame, very quietly, but without looking up.

“Nothing!” said Hildegarde.  “You are an angel, that is all.”

Mrs. Grahame sighed, and thought, as Hildegarde had been thinking, how good it would be to have many children, like a crown of sunbeams, about her; and thought of a little grave in Greenwood, where her only boy lay.

Presently she looked up with her usual bright smile.

“This is all very interesting, Hilda, and I fully sympathize with your feelings behind the hedge; but you have not told me how you came to know about our new neighbours.  Did Colonel Ferrers join you at your peep-hole?”

“He did, mamma!  He did just precisely that.  I saw him coming along the road, swinging his stick, and frowning and humming to himself,—­dear thing!  And when he came near the house, and heard the voices, he stopped and looked, and began to go softly and slowly; so then I knew that he, too, wanted to see what was going on.  So I slipped to the gate and beckoned to him, and he came in on tiptoe and joined me.  Such fun we had,—­just like two conspirators!  He could see over my head, so we could both look at once; and he kept muttering scraps of information in my ear, so that it quite buzzed.  Yes, I know you are shocked, dear madam, but it really could not be helped; and you said once to Jack—­poor old Jack!—­that his uncle was a criterion of gentle breeding and manners!  So now, Mrs. Grahame!”

“Well,” said Mrs. Grahame, “since matters are so, I may as well hear what my criterion had to say about our new neighbours.  A pretty state of things, truly! the magnate and the maiden, spying through bushes on these unsuspecting strangers.  Say on, unhappy girl!”