"Jane, run away with Miss Janetta." "The child is not to blame," said the rector, "but only the people who have brought him up.

A prettier or more clever little head I have never seen in all my life; and we studied such things at Cambridge.

My fine little fellow, shake hands with me." The boy broke off his vicious little dance, and looked up at this tall gentleman with great surprise.

His dark eyes dwelt upon the parson's kindly face, with that power of inquiry which the very young possess, and then he put both little hands into the gentleman's, and burst into a torrent of the most heart-broken tears.
"Poor little man!" said the rector, very gently, taking him up in his arms and patting the silky black curls, while great drops fell, and a nose was rubbed on his shoulder; "it is early for you to begin bad times.

Why, how old are you, if you please ?" The little boy sat up on the kind man's arm, and poked a small investigating finger into the ear that was next to him, and the locks just beginning to be marked with gray; and then he said, "Sore," and tossed his chin up, evidently meaning, "Make your best of that." And the women drew a long breath, and nudged at one another.
"Well done! Four years old, my dear.