e compounded of
about equal parts of angelic innocence and original sin. In her dealings
with her fellow-creatures she exhibits all the _sangfroid_ and
self-possession that mark the modern child. She will be a "handful" some
day, the Twins tell me, and they ought to know. However, pending the
arrival of the time when she will begin to rend the hearts of young men,
she contents herself for the present with practising that accomplishment
with complete and lamentable success upon her own garments.

She is the possessor of a vivid imagination, which she certainly does
not inherit from me, and is fond of impersonating other people, either
characters of her own creation or interesting figures from story-books.
Consequently it is never safe to address her too suddenly. She may be a
fairy, or a bear, or a locomotive at the moment, and will resent having
to return to her proper self, even for a brief space, merely to listen
to some stupid and irrelevant remark--usually something about bed-time
or an open door--from an unintelligent adult.

Kitty says that I spoil her, but that is only because Kitty is quicker
at saying a thing than I am. She is our only child; and I sometimes
wonder, at moments of acute mental introspection (say, in the night
watches after an indigestible supper), what we should do without her.

The other character waiting for introduction is my brother-in-law,
Master Gerald Rubislaw. He is the solitary male member of the family of
which my wife and the Twins form the female side. He is, I think,
fourteen years of age, and he is at present a member of what he
considers--very rightly, I think; and I should know, for I was there
myself--the finest public school in the world. Having no parents, he
resides at my house during his holidays, and refreshes me exceedingly.

He is a sturdy but rather diminutive youth, with a loud voice. (He
always addresses me as if I were standing on a distant hill-top.) He
bears a resemblance to his sisters of which he is heartily and frankly
ashamed, and which he endeavours at times to nullify as far as possible
by a degree of personal uncleanliness which would be alarming to me,
were it not that the traditions of my own extreme youth have not yet
been entirely obliterated from my memory.

His health is excellent, and his intellect is in that condition
euphemistically described in house-master's reports as "unformed." He is
always noisy, constitutionally lazy, and hopelessly casual