Pretty Florence, I often wish I could look up to you! Her fortune will be nearly all at her own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is in the nursery, 'eating bread and honey.' My father, less lucky and less wise than his cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton--a nobody.
The Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the acquaintance.
Now, my mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow, in what is called 'business:' he became richer and richer: but my father and mother died, and were never the better for it.

And I came of age, and _worth_ (I like that expression) not a farthing more or less than this often-quoted eight hundred pounds a year.

My rich uncle is married, but has no children.

I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,--but he is a saint, and close, though ostentatious.

The quarrel between Uncle Templeton and the Saxinghams still continues.