I will fill it in afterwards." For those dear ones of the
last generation are passing from us--have already passed from us in such
numbers that we who were young not so very long ago shall ere long find
ourselves in their places. So I would rather not say what Grandpapa's
newspaper cost, but certainly it was dear enough and rare enough for him
to think of little else the day it came; and I don't suppose he would
have noticed the two children at all, till Grandmamma had made him do
so, had it not been that just as they were beginning to be a _little_
tired, to whisper to each other, "Suppose us stands on other legs for a
change," something--I don't know what--for his snuff-box had been lying
peacefully in his waistcoat pocket ever since Dymock, his old
soldier-servant, had brought in the newspaper--made him sneeze. And with
the sneeze he left off looking at the paper and raised his eyes, and his
eyes being very good ones for his age--much better in comparison than
his ears--he quickly caught sight of his grandchildren.

"So ho!" he exclaimed, "and _you_ are there, master and missy! I did not
know it was already so late. Grave news, my love," he added, turning to
Grandmamma; "looks like war again. The world is trying to go too fast,"
he went on, turning to his paper. "They are actually speaking of running
a new mail-coach from London which should reach Sandlingham in three
days. It is appalling,--why, I remember when I was young it took----"

"It is flying in the face of Providence, _I_ should say, my dear,"
interrupted Grandmamma.

The two little faces near the door grew still more solemn. What strange
words big people used!--what could Grandpapa and Grandmamma mean? But
Grandpapa laid down his paper and looked at them again; Grandmamma too
by this time was less embarrassed by her work. The children felt that
they had at last attracted the old people's attention.

"We came, Grandpapa and Grandmamma, to wish you good-night," began Duke.

"And to hope you will bo'f sleep very well," added Pamela.

This little formula was repeated every evening with the same ceremony.

"Thank you, my good children," said Grandpapa encouragingly; on which
the little couple approached and stood one on each side of him, while he
patted the flaxen heads.

"I may call you 'my good children' to-night, I hope?" he said
inquiringly.

The two looked at each other.

"Bruvver has been good, sir," said the little girl.

"Sister has been go