Neither in mien nor in features was this creature like her sire, and yet she was of his strain: her mind had been filled from his, as the cup from the flagon.
Indisputably, Mr.Home owned manly self-control, however he might secretly feel on some matters.

"Polly," he said, looking down on his little girl, "go into the hall; you will see papa's great-coat lying on a chair; put your hand into the pockets, you will find a pocket-handkerchief there; bring it to me." She obeyed; went and returned deftly and nimbly.

He was talking to Mrs.
Bretton when she came back, and she waited with the handkerchief in her hand.

It was a picture, in its way, to see her, with her tiny stature, and trim, neat shape, standing at his knee.

Seeing that he continued to talk, apparently unconscious of her return, she took his hand, opened the unresisting fingers, insinuated into them the handkerchief, and closed them upon it one by one.