ng settled that business, I now proceed to say,
that as the narrative begins very abruptly, you will find it necessary
to have some little personal account of the parties concerned, which I
will lose no time in giving you. The mother of the party you know so
well I need say nothing further of her than that she was about 27 when
these events occurred; what her age is now, I must be excused telling,
inasmuch as it has nothing to do with the story, and it is her own
concern, and it will too certainly expose the time of the narrative and
other things she wished left in obscurity. Mrs. E., the little mother,
as she is called by every one, was the second in command. A greater
contrast to her cousin could not exist. Short, and rather stout, she
trotted by the side of her companion, as the little hippopotamus by the
side of the giraffe. Both their eyes were dark, but the mother's were
soft, and the little mother's so brilliant when she fixed her eyes on
you, you must tell what you thought, as they penetrated into the heart.
Her broad forehead showed the prevalence of the intellectual powers, and
the reliance on her own sense and judgment. To be sure some people
called her very masculine, and it is true that, when equipped in her
riding gear, and ready to get into her second home (the saddle), she
certainly slaps her tiny boots with her whip, walks round her horse,
examines his legs, and questions her groom as to the throwing out of
curbs, and other mysteries, known as stable lore. The horse has his nose
twitched that she may get into the saddle before the usual kicking scene
commences; once there, he may do what he likes, she is part of her
horse, and enjoys his gambols as much as himself. When in female
garments, though somewhat brusque in manners and blunt in speech, she is
a true woman, and as feminine in heart as the fairest and most delicate
among the sex. Madame, the governess, must occupy our attention the
next. She was the kindest, best, most loving guardian over her flock,
and seemed to have but one unhappiness in the world, and that was her
utter inability to keep in order and understand one rebellious pupil
among them. But I will not tell tales out of school. Sybil and Serena
were the mother's young sisters, 13 and 14 years of age, innocent, gay,
and happy creatures, blessed with beauty and sense above the common lot.
Gertrude, or Gatty, was the child of an old and valued friend. She was
about 12, with the wit, the qui
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