"You know what I have lost." The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who was by way of being very religious in a Low Church way, remarked that "all flesh was grass," to which observation her excellent mamma rejoined: "Very true, dear, very true." And then the trio sighed again, and shook their black heads like so many mandarins.
"I should never support my grief," continued Lydia, still tearful, "if it was not that I have at least three dear friends.

Ah! I shall never forget that happy Christmas Eve!" "Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs.Vrain ?" said Cecilia.
"When you were all so kind and good," sobbed Lydia, with a glance at Lucian, to see that he noticed the confirmation.

"We played whist, didn't we ?" "Four rubbers," groaned Mrs.Pegall, "and retired to bed at ten o'clock, after prayers and a short hymn.

Quite a carol that hymn was, eh, dears ?" "And your poor pa was so bad with his cough," said Beatrice, "I hope it is better.

He went away before dinner, too! Do say your pa is better!" "Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering it was four months since Christmas Eve, Lucian thought it was time Mr.Clyne recovered.
"He enjoyed his tea, though," said Cecilia.