And Letitia was far more anxious that the candle she carried should not drop any of its grease upon her best silk frock, than alarmed at the grotesque shadows it cast, making every portrait seem to follow her with his eyes, as old portraits always do.

Neither child was very interesting.

Letitia, with her angular figure and thin light hair, looked not unlike a diminished spectral reflection of the foundress herself--that pale, prim, pre-Raphaelitish dame who was represented all over the college, in all sizes and varieties of the limner's art.

Arthur, who hung a little behind his sister, was different from her, being stout and square; but he, too, was not an attractive child, and there was a dormant sullenness in his under lip which showed he could be a very naughty one if he chose.
"I told you so, Titia," said he, darting to an open door facing the staircase at the gallery's end.

"There's papa's study fire lit.