CHAPTER III.
AVE MARIA! Mr.Gray's boys sat in several pews, which he could command with his eye from his own seat in the broad aisle.

Every Sunday morning at the first stroke of the bell the boys began to stroll toward the church.
But after they were seated, and the congregation had assembled, and Dr.
Peewee had gone up into the pulpit, the wheels of a carriage were heard outside--steps were let down--there was an opening of doors, a slight scuffing and treading, and old Christopher Burt entered.

His head was powdered, and he wore a queue.

His coat collar was slightly whitened with-powder, and he carried a gold-headed cane.
The boys looked in admiration upon so much respectability, powder, age, and gold cane united in one person.
But all the boys were in love with the golden-haired grand-daughter.
They went home to talk about her.

They went to bed to dream of her.
They read Mary Lamb's stories from Shakespeare, and Hope Wayne was Ophelia, and Desdemona, and Imogen--above all others, she was Juliet.
They read the "Arabian Nights," and she was all the Arabian Princesses with unpronounceable names.