belonged to our
great-grandfather, Sir Vyell Vyvyan, and was made more than a hundred
years ago from one of the oaks which grew in the north grove in the
park," so saying she laid one hand on the back of a huge, cumbersome
piece of furniture, and rolled it across the room up in front of the
glowing logs.

It was now Cecil's turn to be amazed, how could she move that great,
clumsy thing, he pondered to himself, I could not. With a gentle thank
you, and bowing gracefully to her, he sank into their great-grandfather's
chair, and was almost lost sight of among the ample velvet cushions.

Anna who had seated herself on one side of the fireplace, was watching
the pale face, and the weary eyes that were looking dreamily at the
fantastic shapes which from time to time the glowing embers assumed.
Presently a slight, convulsive shudder passed through the boy's frame
and a quiet little sigh escaped him.

He is sad, thought Anna, perhaps he is thinking of his home in Calcutta,
poor fellow, I must do something to amuse him. At the same instant, what
she considered a very happy thought suggested itself.

"I am so glad you came, Cousin Cecil," said she "they say you will soon
get well and strong here. I have a little terrier that catches rats, you
shall take him out in the morning, if you like, and the gardener's boy
will show you where you can kill plenty."

"I don't kill rats," he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed upon the
burning logs and striving to follow the outlines of a fairy island with
palms and tropical plants and ferns as tall as forest trees, which, in
his imagination, he saw there.

"Do you go with your terrier to kill rats?" he inquired, with the
slightest tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh, no," replied the girl, "but I thought you would like to. Most boys
are amused by it, they call it sport, and you know the rats must be
killed or we should have them running behind the wainscot of all the
rooms in the house, and the gamekeeper would not be able to rear the
young pheasants, and we should have no chickens nor pigeons, nor
anything of the kind."

"Why, Cousin Anna," said the boy, "have you a Scotch governess, and does
she make you give a reason for every thing, and give you her reason in
return? That's what Dr. Strickland does with me. It tires me dreadfully,
and I don't see what use it is, for I always know things without
reasoning about them; they come to me of themselves."

Anna, in her eagerness to s