Armyn, the eldest of the family, was with Mr. Brown, a very good old
solicitor, who, besides his office in Oldburgh, had a very pretty
house and grounds two miles beyond St. James's, where the parsonage
children were delighted to spend an afternoon now and then.
Little did they know that it was the taking the little niece as a
daughter that had made it needful to make Armyn enter on a profession
at once, instead of going to the university and becoming a clergyman
like his father; nor how cheerfully Armyn had agreed to do whatever
would best lighten his father's cares and troubles. They were a very
happy family; above all, on the Saturday evenings and Sundays that
the good-natured elder brother spent at home.
"There!" cried Sylvia, laying down her slate pencil, and indulging in
another tremendous yawn; "we can't do a thing more till Mary comes!
What can she be about?"
"Oh, but look, Sylvia!" cried Kate, quite forgetting everything in
the interest of her drawing on a large sheet of straw-paper. "Do you
see what it is?"
"I don't know," said Sylvia, "unless--let me see--That's a very rich
little girl, isn't it?" pointing to an outline of a young lady whose
wealth was denoted by the flounces (or rather scallops) on her frock,
the bracelets on her sausage-shaped arms, and the necklace on her
neck.
"Yes; she is a very rich and grand--Lady Ethelinda; isn't that a
pretty name? I do wish I was Lady Katharine.
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