seated comfortably on his
brother's back, and wrapped up in a blanket, was making a tour of the
'barracks.'

"'It's an awful lark,' said he, shivering with a mixture of cold and
delight.

"If not exactly a _lark_, it was a very happy tour to Melchior, as, hope
gradually changing into certainty, he recognized his brothers in one
shapeless lump after the other in the little beds. There they all were,
sleeping peacefully in a happy home, from the embryo hero to the embryo
philosopher, who lay with the invariable book upon his pillow, and his
hair looking (as it always did) as if he lived in a high wind.

"'I say,' whispered Melchior, pointing to him, 'what did he say the
other day about being a parson?'

"'He said he should like to be one,' returned Hop-o'-my-thumb; 'but you
said he would frighten away the congregation with his looks.'

"'He will make a capital parson,' said Melchior, hastily, 'and I shall
tell him so to-morrow. And when I'm the squire here, he shall be vicar,
and I'll subscribe to all his dodges without a grumble. I'm the eldest
son. And I say, don't you think we could brush his hair for him in a
morning, till he learns to do it himself?'

"'Oh, I will!' was the lively answer; 'I'm an awful dab at brushing.
Look how I brush your best hat!'

"'True,' said Melchior. 'Where are the girls to-night?'

"'In the little room at the end of the long passage,' said Hop
o'-my-thumb, trembling with increased chilliness and enjoyment. 'But
you're never going there! we shall wake the company, and they will all
come out to see what's the matter.'

"'I shouldn't care if they did,' said Melchior, 'it would make it feel
more real.'

"As he did not understand this sentiment, Hop-o'-my-thumb said nothing,
but held on very tightly; and they crept softly down the cold gray
passage in the dawn. The girls' door was open; for the girls were
afraid of robbers, and left their bed-room door wide open at night, as a
natural and obvious means of self-defence. The girls slept together; and
the frill of the pale sister's prim little night-cap was buried in the
other one's uncovered curls.

"'How you do tremble!' whispered Hop-o'-my-thumb; 'are you cold?' This
inquiry received no answer; and after some minutes he spoke again. 'I
say, how very pretty they look! don't they?'

"But for some reason or other, Melchior seemed to have lost his voice;
but he stooped down and kissed both the girls very gently, and then the
two bro