He chatted merrily on: "Why, there's your grandpapa when he was a little grand-baby and had an old grandpapa in his turn," said he, pointing at the portrait he had remarked upon his previous visit in that parlor.

"What a funny little old fellow! Let me see.

Gracious! 'twas before the Revolution.

Ah! now, if he could only speak and tell us just what he saw in the room where they were painting him--what he had for breakfast, for instance--what those dear little ridiculous waistcoats, with all their flowery embroidery, cost a yard, say--yes, yes, and what book that is--and who gave him the hoop--" He rattled on.

Never in Hope's lifetime had such sounds of gay speech been heard in that well-arranged and well-behaved parlor.