houted up at the open schoolroom window that Nancy must come
down directly and see her godfather.

The grand lady-governess looked out in a becoming morning costume.

"A fine young man," she remarked to Miss Christie Grant.

"Yes, that's my oldest nephew, St. George they call him. Giles Brandon
is his name, but his mother aye disliked the name of Giles, thought it
was only fit for a ploughman. So she called him St. George, and that's
what he is now, and will be."

Miss Christie Grant said this with a certain severity of manner, but she
hardly knew how to combine a snubbing to the lady for her betrayal of
interest in all the bachelors round, with her desire to boast of this
relative. So she presently went on in a more agreeable tone. "His mother
married Mr. Daniel Mortimer; he is an excellent young man. Has no debts
and has been a great traveller. In short a year and a half ago he was
shipwrecked, and as nearly lost his life as possible. He was picked up
by Captain Graham, whose grand-daughter (no, I think Miss Graham is the
old gentleman's niece) has been staying this summer with Mr. Daniel
Mortimer. Mr. Brandon, ye'll understand, is only half-brother to
Valentine Mortimer, whom ye frequently see."

Valentine was too young to interest the grand lady, but when by a
combined carelessness of manner with judicious questioning she had
discovered that the so-called St. George had a moderate independence,
and prospects besides, she felt a longing wish to carry down little
Anastasia herself to see her godfather, and was hardly restrained from
doing so by that sense of propriety which never forsook her. In the mean
time Brandon passed out of view into the room where breakfast was spread
and the little Anastasia, so named because her birth had taken place on
Easter day, was brought down smiling in her sister Barbara's arms.

Peter's little love, a fair and dimpled creature, was forthwith
accommodated with a chair close to her godfather, while the twins
withdrew to practise their duets, and more viands were placed on the
table.

The children then began to wait on their father and his guest, and
during a short conversation which ensued concerning Mrs. Peter Melcombe
and her boy, they were quite silent, till a pause took place and the
little Anastasia lifted up her small voice and distinguished herself by
saying--

"Fader, Peter's dot a dhost in his darden."

"Got a ghost!" exclaimed John Mortimer, with a look of dismay; f