Was there any child quite like the little girl? They had been so proud and happy over Stephen, so delighted with Margaret. He had loved them all, and they were a nice household of children. But they were growing up and going their ways. They would be making new homes. Ah, it would be many a long year before the little girl would think of such a thing. They would keep her snug and safe, "to have and to hold," and he smiled to himself at the literal rendering.
The chime of the clock roused Mrs. Underhill. It was Hanny's bedtime, and she had been so busy all day, so full of excitement, too, that her checks had bloomed with roses. She glanced across. The fair flaxen head was on the shoulder half hidden by the protecting arm. The other head, showing many silver threads now, drooped over a little. The picture brought a mist to her eyes, and there was a half sob in her throat. The same thought came into her mind. She would be their "little girl" when the other one had gone to her new home.
She could not disturb them. It was "good will and peace" everywhere.