was to wavie like mine," said Gabriel, "you'd have a
mighty hard time combing it in the morning."

"Don't you remember," Nan went on in a reminiscent way, "that she made
you shake hands with me that day? It was funny the way you came up and
held out your arm. If I had jumped at you and said _Boo!_ I don't know
what would have happened." Gabriel grew very red at this, but Nan
ignored his embarrassment. "You had syrup on your fingers, you know, and
then we all had some in a saucer. Yes, and we all sopped our bread in
the same saucer, and Cephas here got the syrup on his face and in his
hair."

It never occurred to me in those days that Nan was beautiful, or that
Gabriel was handsome, but looking back in the light of experience, it is
easy to remember that they had in their features all the promises that
the long and slow-moving years were to fulfil. I was struck, however, by
one peculiarity of Nan's face. When her countenance was at rest, it
gave out a hint of melancholy, and there was an appealing look in her
brown eyes; but when she smiled or laughed, the sombre face broke up
into numberless dimples. Apart from her countenance, there was a charm
about her which I have never been able to trace to its source, and which
of course is beyond description; and this charm remained, and made
itself felt whether the appearance of melancholy had its dwelling-place
in her eyes, which were large, and lustrous, and full of tenderness, or
whether her face was brilliant with smiles. She had a deserved
reputation as a tomboy, but she carried off her tricksy whims with a
daintiness that preserved them from all hint of coarseness; and if
sometimes she was rude, she had a way of righting herself that none
could resist.

As for Gabriel, he was always large for his age. He was strong and
healthy, possessing every physical excuse for roughness and
boisterousness; but association with his grandmother, who was one of the
gentlest of gentlewomen, had toned him down and smoothed the rough
edges. His hair was dark and curly, and his face gave promise of great
strength of character--a promise which, it may be said here, was
fulfilled to the letter. He was as whimsical as Nan, and, in addition,
had moods to which she was a stranger.

These things did not occur to Cephas the Child, but are the fruits of
his memory and experience. He only knew at that time that Nan and
Gabriel were both very good to him. He was considerably younger than
either of